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BR    315    .M4    1882 

Merle   d'Aubign  e,    J.    H.    17< 

-1872. 
D'Aubign  e's  Martyrs  of   th< 

reformation 


D'AUBIGNE'S 


Martyrs  of  the  Reformation 


WITH   AN 


INTRODUCTION 


BY    THE 


Rev.  C.    H.   A.   BULKLEY,  D.D. 

Professor  of  Rhetoric  and  Literature. in  Howard  University,  Wash- 
ington, D.  C,  AND  Compiler  of  "  Plato's  Best  Thoughts." 


PHILADELPHIA 
PRESBYTERIAN   BOARD   OF   PUBLICATION 

1334  CHESTNUT  STREET 


COPYRIGHT,   1882,    BY 

THE  TRUSTEES   OF  THE 

PRESBYTERIAN    BOARD    OF    PUBLICATION. 


ALL   RIGHTS  RESERVED. 


Westcott  &  Thomson, 
Stereotypers  and  Electrotypers, 


J^^, 


INDEX  OF  NAMES. 


Page 

ANTWERP,  THREE  MONKS  OF 31 

ASKEW,  ANNE 49° 

BAINHAM,  JAMES 100 

BAYFIELD,  RICHARD 97 

BENNET,  THOMAS 66 

BERQUIN,  LOUIS 290 

BILNEY,  THOMAS 73 

BROWN,  JOHN 25 

CHATELAIN 46 

COBHAM,  LORD 16 

CURIONE,  CELIO 142 

DE  CATURCE,  JEAN  .    .    .  *. 332 

DRACO,  JOHN 30 

FRYTH,  JOHN 109 

HAMILTON,  PATRICK 363 

HOTTINGER 34 

HUN,  RICHARD 20 

KL^SSEN,  WENDELMUTHA 360 

LAURENT  (ALEXANDER) 13>^ 


4  INDEX   OF  NAMES. 

Page 

LECLERC 46 

LIVRY,  THE   HERMIT  OF 58 

LUTHER,  MARTIN 503 

NICHOLSON,  JOHN   (LAMBERT) 476 

OLDCASTLE,  SIR  JOHN 16 

PALEARIO,  AONIO 160 

PAVANNE,  JAMES 55 

PETIT,  JOHN 71 

SAWTRE,  WILLIAM 15 

SCHUCH,  PASTOR 52 

TIELMANS,  GILES 449 

TYNDALE,  WILLIAM 184 

VALERIO,  RODRIGO   DE 463 

VAN   BARKER,  JOHN 352 

VAN  OUSBERGHEN,  JUSTUS 455 

WIRTH   AND   HIS   TWO  SONS 36 

WISHART,  GEORGE 418 

WOLSEY'S  VICTIMS 61 


INTRODUCTION 


The  thirteen  volumes  of  Merle  D'Aubigne's 
History  of  the  Reformation,  constituting  the  two 
series,  to  the  one  of  which  Luther,  and  to  the 
other  Calvin,  is  the  central  figure,  present  a 
course  of  historical  reading  the  power  and 
charm  of  which  are  not  excelled  even  by  that 
of  Macaulay. 

The  historico-poetic  style  of  the  latter  has 
not  in  it  so  much  of  the  dramatic  element  as 
D'Aubigne  employs.  His  plan  has  been  viv- 
idly to  portray  personal  characteristics,  and  to 
present  actual  conversations  in  strict  accord 
with  historic  truth,  and,  as  far  as  possible,  in 
the  very  language  of  the  individuals  whose 
histories  he  records.  His  graphic  delineations 
of  scenes  and  events,  and  his  crystalline  pres- 
entations of  principles,  with  his  lifelike  por- 
traitures of  priest,  king.  Reformer  and  martyr, 
render  his  writings  without  their  equal  as  his- 
tories in  their  fascination.  They  have  the  real 
ring  of  romance  in  them. 


6  INTRODUCTION. 

When  the  first  series  of  five  volumes  ap- 
peared, depicting  the  Reformation  under  Lu- 
ther, they  were  sought  with  an  avidity  and 
read  with  an  interest  most  intense,  such  as 
no  other  historical  works  had  ever  before  se- 
cured. 

It  is  a  strange  fact,  however,  that  the  sec- 
ond series,  having  Calvin  for  its  central  figure, 
has  not  been  hungered  after  and  devoured  by 
earnest  readers  as  had  been  the  former. 

Nevertheless,  those  who  have  perused  the 
latter  found  not  merely  an  equal,  but  a  supe- 
rior, interest  therein.  For  in  many  respects  this 
second  series  covers  a  wider  field  of  history, 
introduces  more  attractive  characters  and  de- 
velops grander  results  even  than  the  first.  It 
gives  the  fuller  harvest  and  the  riper  fruit  of 
self-sacrifice  and  devotedness  in  those  whose 
blood,  as  that  of  martyrs,  was  made  the  seed 
of  the  Church.  The  first  unfolds  the  destruc- 
tive, and  the  second  the  creative,  period  of  the 
Reformation ;  and  as  creation,  progress  and 
development  are  more  attractive  than  chaos, 
conflict  and  confusion,  so  the  latter  period 
attracts  more  than  the  former,  especially  when 
brought  into  view  by  a  style  and  method  quite 
as  picturesque  and  dramatic  as  that  of  the 
former. 


INTR  OD  UC  TION.  f 

The  strange  fact  just  alluded  to  may  be  ac- 
counted for  on  several  grounds :  First,  the 
number  of  volumes  in  the  second  series,  in- 
creased to  eight  from  the  five  of  the  first,  may- 
have  deterred  some  from  undertaking  what 
might  seem  to  them  a  too  formidable  task  of 
perusal.  But  the  reader,  having  once  dipped 
into  its  pages,  is  swept  along  upon  a  strong 
wave  of  enthusiasm  to  the  end,  and,  coming 
to  this,  is  filled  with  deep  regret  that  no  more 
volumes  are  left  for  his  attraction,  and  espe- 
cially that  the  brilliant  and  renowned  author 
could  not  have  painted  the  events  preceding 
the  Reformation,  and  brought  his  history  also 
down  through  the  final  days  of  Latimer  and 
Cranmer,  past  the  reign  of  Bloody  Mary  and 
beyond  the  times  of  the  Puritans,  even  to 
those  of  Whitefield  and  Wesley.  Such  a  com- 
plete history  of  religious  progress,  presented 
in  pictures  so  graphic  and  realistic,  would  have 
been  an  inestimable  treasure  to  the  Church. 

Secondly,  the  name  of  Calvin,  being  to  some 
a  synonym  for  bigotry,  ecclesiasticism,  dry  doc- 
trine^ dogmatic  discussion  and  timeworn  form- 
ulas of  truth,  may  have  repelled  those  who 
found  delight  in  readino-  the  five  volumes  of 
the  first  series,  in  which  Luther,  its  central 
figure,   looms    up   as    the   grandly  heroic    Re- 


8  INTRODUCTION. 

former  around  whose  head  a  halo  of  romance 
circles.  But  D'Aublgne  presents  to  us  in 
his  second  series  the  character,  teachings  and 
achievements  of  Calvin  in  a  new  light,  which, 
if  not  so  strikingly  brilliant  as  that  of  Luther, 
is  yet  more  steadily  burning  and  widely  ra- 
diating. 

The  author  does  not  here  confine  himself 
to  the  dry  details  of  doctrinal  discussion  within 
a  limited  sphere  of  dogmatic  theology.  He 
launches  out  into  the  broad  sea  of  the  civil, 
secular  and  consentaneous  histories  of  the  na- 
tions among  which  the  principles  of  the  Ref- 
ormation spread  so  rapidly  and  widely. 

Thus  we  have  pictured  to  us  here  the  in- 
tense and  heroic  struggles  of  the  Genevans 
after  civil  liberty  against  the  machinations  of 
the  duke  of  Savoy,  in  complicity  with  the 
bishop  Pierre  la  Baume,  and  the  tyrannies  of 
Charles  V.  We  are  carried  into  France,  Spain, 
Italy,  Denmark,  Norway  and  Sweden  in  fruit- 
ful journeys  of  thought  and  lifelike  portraitures 
of  devoted  men  and  women.  Especially  are 
we  presented  with  the  most  interesting  and 
instructive  phase  of  English  history  at  the 
time  when  the  Eighth  Henry  broke  from  the 
thraldom  of  the  papal  hierarchy,  and  in  found- 
ing the  English  Church  alike  opposed  and  re- 


INTR  on  UC  TION.  9 

tarded  the  Reformation  which  such  men  as 
Tyndale  and  Bilney  were  strenuously  endeav- 
oring- to  advance. 

No  one  who  loves  the  principles  of  the  Ref- 
ormation, and  rejoices  in  reading  of  its  con- 
flicts and  its  triumphs,  can  fail  to  find  in  D'Au- 
bigne's  second  series  an  equal,  and  even  a 
superior,  interest  to  what  he  may  have  found 
in  the  first. 

From  both  these  series  the  personal  sketches 
contained  in  this  volume  have  been  carefully 
culled  and  presented  in  the  very  language  it- 
self of  D'Aubigne.  These  constitute  a  nota- 
ble gallery  of  religious  portraits,  which,  for 
vivid  coloring  and  personal  verisimilitude,  are 
not  surpassed  in  their  charm.  They  cannot 
but  be  read  with  the  deepest  interest. 

In  these  days  of  materialism,  of  scientific 
skepticism,  of  worldly  aspiration  and  self-in- 
dulgence, it  is  most  essential  that  such  por- 
traitures should  be  presented  and  perused,  as 
displaying  that  noble  heroism  of  faith  and  that 
Chrisdike  spirit  of  self-sacrifice  which  the 
Church  and  the  world  need  for  the  redemp- 
tion of  souls  and  ca^  triumph  of  Christianity. 
Far  more  charming  are  these  depictions  of 
devotion  to  truth  and  disreo^ard  of  life  for  its 

o 

sake   than   are  the  quaint   and   sometimes  te- 


I O  INTR  OD  UC  TION. 

dious  presentations  of  Fox  in  his  Book  of  the 
Martyrs,  attractive  even  as  that  work  indeed 
has  been  to  many. 

It  would  truly  have  been  most  satisfying  if 
to  these  many  illustrious  instances  of  Christian 
self-sacrifice  there  could  have  been  added,  in 
the  graphic  language  of  D'Aubigne,  those  of 
the  preceding  times  of  Huss  and  Wickliff  or 
of  the  succeeding  ones  of  Cranmer,  Latimer 
and  Ridley,  with  the  many  brave  victims  of 
the  Smithfield  fires. 

It  was  the  design,  originally,  to  include  in 
this  compilation  the  intensely  vivid  sketches 
of  such  men  as  Berthelier,  Bonnivard,  Baudi- 
chon  and  Levrier,  as  those  who,  while  not 
being  strictly  evangelical  or  spiritual,  never- 
theless aided  greatly  by  their  sacrifices  and 
sufferings  toward  the  establishment  of  relig- 
ious liberty  in  their  securing  of  that  which  was 
civil.  These  men,  and  others  like  them,  who 
may  not  have  lost  their  lives  for  truth  and 
freedom,  should  yet  be  regarded  as  martyrs  in 
the  broadest  signification  of  that  term,  they 
having  been  "witnesses"  bold  and  true  for 
the  rights  of  man.  The  story  of  their  wrongs 
and  sufferings,  as  graphically  given  by  D'Au- 
bigne, although  too  lengthy  for  this  volume, 
and    therefore    omitted,    should    yet    be    read 


INTR  OD  UCTION,  1 1 

by  every  lover  of  liberty.  The  results  they 
achieved  for  national  life  and  individual  free- 
dom are  so  great  and  multiplied,  and  have 
been  gained  at  such  immense  cost,  as  to  de- 
mand a  perusal  of  their  histories  and  the  re- 
membrance of  their  names  as  the  immortal 
few  "  that  were  not  born  to  die." 

Of  all  these,  whose  heroism  and  self-sacri- 
fice D'Aubigne  so  graphically  depicts,  to  which 
we  refer  the  reader  in  his  volumes,  he  thus 
thoughtfully  and  in  full  justice  writes : 

"The  times  of  the  Reformation  abound  in 
martyrs  ;  and  we  might  well  ask  whether  primi- 
tive Christianity,  which  came  to  an  end  when 
the  reign  of  Constantine  began,  had  so  great  a 
number  of  them  as  the  renovated  Christianity 
of  the  sixteenth  century ;  especially  if  we  take 
into  account  the  different  lengths  of  the  pe- 
riods. The  impulse  which  led  the  martyrs  of 
the  Netherlands,  of  France,  England,  Hun- 
gary, Italy,  Spain  and  other  lands,  to  give  up 
their  lives  calmly,  and  even  joyfully,  proceed- 
ed from  the  depth  of  their  convictions,  the 
holy  and  sovereign  voice  of  conscience,  en- 
lightened, purified  and  strengthened  by  the 
word  of  God.  In  the  souls  of  these  lowly  he- 
roes there  was  a  secret  and  mighty  testimony 
to  the  truth  of  the  gospel,  which  vividly  man- 


1 2  INTR  OD  UCTION. 

ifested  to  them  its  grandeur,  impelled  them  to 
sacrifice  all  for  its  sake,  and  gave  them  cour- 
age to  obey,  although  it  cost  them  not  only 
goods  and  worldly  greatness,  but  also  the  good 
opinion,  the  affection,  and  esteem  even,  of  those 
whom  they  most  tenderly  loved.  Obedience, 
indeed,  was  not  always  instantaneous.  Some- 
times there  were  hindrances,  conflicts,  hesita- 
tion and  delay.  There  were  also  some  weak 
consciences  which  were  overcome.  But  wher- 
ever the  conscience  was  sound,  it  acquired  in 
the  midst  of  difficulties  more  and  more  force, 
and  when  once  its  voice  was  heard  the  victory 
was  won.  It  must  be  understood  that  we  do 
not  mean  here  a  conscience  which  a  man  has 
made  for  himself:  that  of  which  we  speak  was 
the  highest  expression  of  truth,  justice  and  the 
divine  will,  and  it  was  found  to  be  the  same  in 
all  regions.  The  souls  of  these  martyrs  were 
exempt  from  all  prejudices,  pure  as  a  cloudless 
sky.  They  were  conscientious  men  ;  and  here- 
in we  have  the  complete  explanation  of  the 
grand  phenomenon  presented  to  us  in  the 
Reformation.  Here  was  a  force  sufficient  to 
break  through  stubborn  bonds,  to  surmount 
passionate  opposition,  to  brave  torture  and  to 
cro  to  the  stake.  No  concessions  were  to  be 
made,   no   agreement  with   error.     The    noble 


INTR  OD  UCTION.  1 3 

martyrs  of  the  first  centuries  and  of  the  six- 
teenth were  the  select  spirits  and  the  glory 
of  the  human  race." 

No  fitter  ending  to  this  volume  could  be 
given — it  being  that  also  of  D'Aubigne's  whole 
history — than  the  death-scene  of  Luther,  who, 
though  not  perishing  at  the  stake,  passed 
through  fires  which,  borne  heroically  and  es- 
caped divinely,  entitle  him  to  a  place  in  the 
portrait-gallery  of  the  martyrs  of  the  Refor- 
mation— they  who,  whether  meeting  violent  or 
peaceful  deaths,  testified  with  equal  courage 
in  conflict  and  with  strength  in  achievement 
to  the  truth  as  revealed  in  the  glorious  gospel 
of  the  Son  of  God. 

c.  H.  A.  B. 


Note. — These  personal  histories  are  not  here  presented  in 
their  exact  chronological  order,  that  not  having  been  done 
even  by  D'Aubigne  himself.  Many  of  them  so  overlap  each 
other  that  a  succession  as  to  time  was  impracticable.  They 
are,  however,  so  sufficiently  arranged  as  to  show  severally  their 
chronological  relation  to  each  other. 


Martyrs  of  the  Reformation. 


I. 

WILLIAM    SAWTRE, 

The  First  Martyr  to  Protestantism  in  England, 

A.  D.  1401. 

The  son  of  Wickliffe's  old  defender  was  now 
king:  a  reform  of  the  Church  seemed  immi- 
nent, but  the  primate  Arundel  had  foreseen 
the  danger.  This  cunning  priest  and  skillful 
politician  had  observed  which  way  the  wind 
blew,  and  deserted  Richard  in  good  time. 
Taking  Lancaster  by  the  hand,  he  put  the 
crown  on  his  head,  saying  to  him,  "  To  consol- 
idate your  throne,  conciliate  the  clergy  and 
sacrifice  the  Lollards." — "  I  will  be  the  protector 
of  the  Church,"  replied  Henry  IV.;  and  from 
that  hour  the  power  of  the  priests  was  greater 
than  the  power  of  the  nobility.  Rome  has 
ever  been  adroit  in  profiting  by  revolutions. 

Lancaster,  in  his  eagerness  to  show  his  grat- 
itude to  the  priests,  ordered  that  every  incorri- 
gible heretic  should    be  burnt   alive  to  terrify 

15 


l6  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

his  companions.  Practice  followed  close  upon 
the  theory.  A  pious  priest  named  William 
Sawtre  had  presumed  to  say,  "  Instead  of  ador- 
ing the  cross  on  which  Christ  suffered,  I  adore 
Christ  who  suffered  on  it."  He  was  dragged 
to  St.  Paul's;  his  hair  was  shaved  off;  a  lay- 
man's cap  was  placed  on  his  head ;  and  the 
primate  handed  him  over  to  the  77tercy  of  the 
earl-marshal  of  England.  This  mercy  was 
shown  him :  he  was  burnt  alive  at  Smithfield 
in  the  beginning  of  March,  1401.  Sawtre  was 
the  first  martyr  to  Protestantism. 


II. 

SIR  JOHN  OLDCASTLE,  LORD  COBHAM, 

A.  D.  1417. 

A  FEW  miles  from  Rochester  stood  Cowline 
Castle,  in  the  midst  of  the  fertile  pastures  wa- 
tered by  the  Medway — 

"  The  fair  Medway  that  with  wanton  pride 
Forms  silver  mazes  with  her  crooked  tide." 

In  the  beginning  of  the  fifteenth  century  it  was 
inhabited  by  Sir  John  Oldcastle,  Lord  Cobham, 
a  man  in  high  favor  with  the  king. 

The  "poor  priests"  thronged  to  Cowling  in 
quest  of  Wickliffe's  writings,  of  which  Cobham 
had  caused  numerous  copies  to  be  made,  and 


S//^    JOHN  OLDCASTLE,    LORD    COBHAM.         I7 

whence  they  were  circulated  through  the  dio- 
ceses of  Canterbury,  Rochester,  London  and 
Hertford.  Cobham  attended  their  preaching, 
and  if  any  enemies  ventured  to  interrupt  them 
he  threatened  them  with  his  sword.  "  I  would 
sooner  risk  my  life,"  said  he,  "  than  submit  to 
such  unjust  decrees  as  dishonor  the  everlast- 
ing Testament."  The  king  would  not  permit 
the  clergy  to  lay  hands  on  his  favorite. 

But  Henry  V.  having  succeeded  his  father 
in  141 3,  and  passed  from  the  houses  of  ill-fame 
he  had  hitherto  frequented  to  the  foot  of  the 
altars  and  the  head  of  the  armies,  the  arch- 
bishop immediately  denounced  Cobham  to  him, 
and  he  was  summoned  to  appear  before  the 
king.  Sir  John  had  understood  Wickliffe's  doc- 
trine, and  experienced  in  his  own  person  the 
might  of  the  divine  word.  ''As  touching  the 
pope  and  his  spirituality,"  he  said  to  the  king, 
"I  owe  them  neither  suit  nor  service,  foras- 
much as  I  know  him  by  the  Scriptures  to  be 
the  great  Antichrist."  Henry  thrust  aside  Cob- 
ham's  hand  as  he  presented  his  confession  of 
faith :  "  I  will  not  receive  this  paper ;  lay  it  be- 
fore your  judges."  When  he  saw  his  profes- 
sion refused,  Cobham  had  recourse  to  the  only 
arm  which  he  knew  of  out  of  the  gospel.  The 
differences  which  we  now  settle  by  pamphlets 
were  then  very  commonly  settled  by  the  sword  : 
"  I  offer  in  defence  of  my  faith  to  fight  for  life 


1 8  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

or  death  with  any  man  living,  Christian  or  pa- 
gan, always  excepting  Your  Majesty."  Cob- 
ham  was  led  to  the  Tower. 

On  the  23d  of  September,  141 3,  he  was  taken 
before  the  ecclesiastical  tribunal  then  sitting  at 
St.  Paul's.  *'  We  must  believe,"  said  the  pri- 
mate to  him,  "  what  the  holy  Church  of  Rome 
teaches,  without  demanding  Christ's  author- 
ity."— "  Believe !"  shouted  the  priests,  "  be- 
lieve !" — "  I  am  willing  to  believe  all  that  God 
desires,"  said  Sir  John ;  "  but  that  the  pope 
should  have  authority  to  teach  what  is  con- 
trary to  Scripture,  that  I  can  never  believe." 
He  was  led  back  to  the  Tower.  The  word  of 
God  was  to  have  its  martyr. 

On  Monday,  September  25th,  a  crowd  of 
priests,  canons,  friars,  clerks  and  indulgence- 
sellers  thronged  the  large  hall  of  the  Domin- 
ican convent  and  attacked  Lord  Cobham  with 
abusive  language.  These  insults,  the  import- 
ance of  the  moment  for  the  Reformation  of 
England,  the  catastrophe  that  must  needs  close 
the  scene, — all  agitated  his  soul  to  its  very 
depths.  When  the  archbishop  called  upon 
him  to  confess  his  offence,  he  fell  on  his  knees, 
and,  lifting  up  his  hands  to  heaven,  exclaimed, 
"  I  confess  to  thee,  O  God,  and  acknowledge 
that  in  my  frail  youth  I  seriously  offended  thee 
by  my  pride,  anger,  intemperance  and  impu- 
rity: for  these  offences  I  implore  thy  mercy." 


SIR    JOHN  OLDCASTLE,   LORD    COBHAM.  I9 

Then  standing  up,  his  face  still  wet  with  tears, 
he  said,  "  I  ask  not  your  absolution :  it  is  God's 
only  that  I  need."  The  clergy  did  not  despair, 
however,  of  reducing  this  high-spirited  gentle- 
man :  they  knew  that  spiritual  strength  is  not 
always  conjoined  with  bodily  vigor,  and  they 
hoped  to  vanquish  by  priestly  sophisms  the 
man  who  dared  challenge  the  papal  champions 
to  single  combat.  ''Sir  John,"  said  the  primate 
at  last,  "you  have  said  some  very  strange 
things :  we  have  spent  much  time  in  endeav- 
ors to  convince  you,  but  all  to  no  effect.  The 
day  passeth  away:  you  must  either  submit 
yourself  to  the  ordinance  of  the  most  holy 
Church — " — "  I  will  none  otherwise  believe 
than  what  I  told  you.  Do  with  me  what  you 
will." — "  Well,  then,  we  must  needs  do  the 
law,"  the  archbishop  made  answer. 

Arundel  stood  up;  all  the  priests  and  peo- 
ple rose  with  him  and  uncovered  their  heads. 
Then,  holding  the  sentence  of  death  in  his  hand, 
he  read  it  with  a  clear  voice.  "  It  is  well,"  said 
Sir  John  ;  "  though  you  condemn  my  body,  you 
can  do  no  harm  to  my  soul,  by  the  grace  of  my 
eternal  God."  He  was  again  led  back  to  the 
Tower,  whence  he  escaped  one  night  and  took 
refuge  In  Wales.  He  was  retaken  in  Decem- 
ber, 141 7,  carried  to  London,  dragged  on  a 
hurdle  to  St.  Giles's  Fields,  and  there  sus- 
pended by  chains  over  a  slow  fire  and  cruelly 


20  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

burned  to  death.  Thus  died  a  Christian  illus- 
trious after  the  fashion  of  his  age — a  champion 
of  the  word  of  God. 


III. 
RICHARD  HUN, 

A.  D.  1516. 

There  lived  in  London  an  honest  trades- 
man named  Richard  Hun,  one  of  those  wit- 
nesses of  the  truth  who,  sincere  though  unen- 
lightened, have  been  often  found  in  the  bosom 
of  Catholicism.  It  was  his  practice  to  retire  to 
his  closet  and  spend  a  portion  of  each  day  in 
the  study  of  the  Bible.  At  the  death  of  one 
of  his  children  the  priest  required  of  him  an 
exorbitant  fee,  which  Hun  refused  to  pay,  and 
for  which  he  was  summoned  before  the  legate's 
court.  Animated  by  that  public  spirit  which 
characterizes  the  people  of  England,  he  felt 
indignant  that  an  Englishmen  should  be  cited 
before  a  foreign  tribunal,  and  laid  an  informa- 
tion  against  the  priest  and  his  counsel  under 
the  act  of  prcemunire.  Such  boldness — most 
extraordinary  at  that  time — exasperated  the 
clergy  beyond  all  bounds.  "  If  these  proud  cit- 
izens are  allowed  to  have  their  way,"  exclaimed 
the  monks,  "  every  layman  will  dare  to  resist  a 
priest." 


RICHARD   HUN.  21 

Exertions  were  accordingly  made  to  snare 
the  pretended  rebel  in  the  trap  of  heresy ;  he 
was  thrown  into  the  Lollards'  Tower  at  St. 
Paul's,  and  an  iron  collar  was  fastened  round 
his  neck,  attached  to  which  was  a  chain  so 
heavy  that  neither  man  nor  beast  (says  Fox) 
would  have  been  able  to  bear  it  long.  When 
taken  before  his  judges  they  could  not  convict 
him  of  heresy,  and  it  was  observed  with  aston- 
ishment "  that  he  had  his  beads  in  prison  with 
him."  They  would  have  set  him  at  liberty, 
after  inflicting  on  him  perhaps  some  trifling 
penance,  but  then,  what  a  bad  axample  it  would 
be  !  and  who  could  stop  the  Reformers  if  it 
was  so  easy  to  resist  the  papacy?  Unable  to 
triumph  by  justice,  certain  fanatics  resolved  to 
triumph  by  crime. 

At  midnight  on  the  2d  of  December,  the  day 
of  his  examination,  three  men  stealthily  as- 
cended the  stairs  of  the  Lollards'  Tower:  the 
bellringer  went  first,  carrying  a  torch ;  a  ser- 
geant named  Charles  Joseph  followed ;  and 
last  came  the  bishop's  chancellor.  Having  en- 
tered the  cell,  they  went  up  to  the  bed  on  which 
Hun  was  lying,  and  finding  that  he  was  asleep, 
the  chancellor  said,  '*  Lay  hands  on  the  thief." 
Charles  Joseph  and  the  bellringer  fell  upon  the 
prisoner,  who,  awaking  with  a  start,  saw  at  a 
glance  what  this  midnight  visit  meant.  He  re- 
sisted the  assassins  at  first,  but  was  soon  over- 


22  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

powered  and  strangled.  Charles  Joseph  then 
fixed  the  dead  man's  belt  round  his  neck,  the 
bellringer  helped  to  raise  his  lifeless  body,  and 
the  chancellor  slipped  the  other  end  of  the  belt 
through  a  ring  fixed  in  the  wall.  They  then 
placed  his  cap  on  his  head  and  hastily  quitted 
the  cell.  Immediately  after  the  conscience- 
stricken  Charles  Joseph  got  on  horseback  and 
rode  from  the  city ;  the  bellringer  left  the 
cathedral  and  hid  himself:  the  crime  dispersed 
the  criminals.  The  chancellor  alone  kept  his 
ground,  and  he  was  at  prayers  when  the  news 
w^as  brought  him  that  the  turnkey  had  found 
Hun  hanging.  "  He  must  have  killed  himself 
in  despair,"  said  the  hypocrite.  But  every  one 
knew  poor  Hun's  Christian  feelings.  "  It  is  the 
priests  who  have  murdered  him,"  was  the  gen- 
eral cry  in  London,  and  an  inquest  was  order- 
ed to  be  held  on  his  body. 

On  Tuesday,  the  5th  of  December,  William 
Barnwell,  the  city  coroner,  the  two  sheriffs  and 
twenty-four  jurymen  proceeded  to  the  Lollards' 
Tower.  They  remarked  that  the  belt  was  so 
short  that  the  head  could  not  be  got  out  of  it, 
and  that  consequently  it  had  never  been  placed 
in  it  voluntarily;  and  hence  the  jury  concluded 
that  the  suspension  was  an  after-thought  of 
some  other  persons.  Moreover,  they  found 
that  the  ring  was  too  high  for  the  poor  victim 
to  reach  it,  that  the  body  bore  marks  of  vio- 


RICHARD   HUM.  23 

lence,  and  that  traces  of  blood  were  to  be  seen 
in  the  cell.  ''Wherefore  all  we  find  by  God  and 
all  our  consciences,"  runs  the  verdict,  "  that 
Richard  Hun  was  murdered.  Also,  we  acquit 
the  said  Richard  Hun  of  his  own  death." 

It  was  but  too  true,  and  the  criminals  them- 
selves confessed  it.  The  miserable  Charles 
Joseph,  having  returned  home  on  the  evening 
of  the  6th  of  December,  said  to  his  maid-ser- 
vant, ''  If  you  will  swear  to  keep  my  secret,  I 
will  tell  you  all." — "  Yes,  master,"  she  replied, 
"  if  it  is  neither  felony  nor  treason." — Joseph 
took  a  book,  swore  the  girl  on  it,  and  then  said 
to  her,  "I  have  killed  Richard  Hun." — "Oh, 
master  !  how  ?  he  was  called  a  worthy  man." — 
"  I  would  liever  [rather]  than  a  hundred  pounds 
it  were  not  done,"  he  made  answer ;  ''  but  what 
is  done  cannot  be  undone."  He  then  rushed 
out  of  the  house. 

The  clergy  foresaw  what  a  serious  blow  this 
unhappy  affair  would  be  to  them,  and  to  justify 
themselves  they  examined  Hun's  Bible  (it  was 
Wickliffe's  version),  and  having  read  in  the 
preface  that  "  poor  men  and  idiots  [simple 
folks]  have  the  truth  of  the  Holy  Scriptures 
more  than  a  thousand  prelates  and  religious 
men  and  clerks  of  the  school,"  and  further, 
that  "  the  pope  ought  to  be  called  Antichrist," 
the  bishop  of  London,  assisted  by  the  bishops  of 
Durham  and  Lincolm,  declared  Hun  guilty  of 


24  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

heresy,  and  on  the  20th  of  December  his  dead 
body  was  burnt  at  Smithfield.  "  Hun's  bones 
have  been  burnt,  and  therefore  he  was  a  her- 
etic," said  the  priests ;  "  he  was  a  heretic,  and 
therefore  he  committed  suicide." 

The  triumph  of  the  clergy  was  of  short  du- 
ration, for  almost  at  the  same  time  William 
Horsey,  the  bishop's  chancellor,  Charles  Jo- 
seph, and  John  Spalding,  the  bellringer,  were 
convicted  of  the  murder.  A  bill  passed  the 
Commons  restoring  Hun's  property  to  his  fam- 
ily and  vindicating  his  character ;  the  Lords  ac- 
cepted the  bill,  and  the  king  himself  said  to  the 
priests,  "  Restore  to  these  wretched  children 
the  property  of  their  father,  whom  you  so  cru- 
elly murdered,  to  our  great  and  just  horror." — 
"  If  the  clerical  theocracy  should  gain  the  mas- 
tery of  the  state,"  was  the  general  remark  in 
London,  "  it  would  not  only  be  a  very  great  lie, 
but  the  most  frightful  tyranny."  England  has 
never  gone  back  since  that  time,  and  a  theo- 
cratic rule  has  always"  inspired  the  sound  por- 
tion of  the  nation  with  a  just  and  insurmount- 
able antipathy.  Such  were  the  events  taking 
place  in  England  shordy  before  the  Refor- 
madon. 


JOHN  BROWN.  25 

IV. 

JOHN   BROWN, 

A.  D.  1517. 

In  the  spring  of  151 7,  the  year  In  which  Lu- 
ther posted  up  his  theses,  a  priest  whose  manners 
announced  a  man  swollen  with  pride  happened 
to  be  on  board  the  passage-boat  from  London 
to  Gravesend  with  an  intelligent  and  pious 
Christian  of  Ashford,  by  name  John  Brown. 
The  passengers,  as  they  floated  down  the 
stream,  were  amusing  themselves  by  watching 
the  banks  glide  away  from  them,  when  the 
priest,  turning  toward  Brown,  said  to  him  in- 
solently, "  You  are  too  near  me ;  get  farther 
off.  Do  you  know  who  I  am  ?" — "  No,  sir,"  an- 
swered Brown. — "  Well,  then,  you  must  know 
that  I  am  a  priest." — ''  Indeed,  sir ;  are  you  a 
parson,  or  vicar,  or  a  lady's  chaplain  ?" — "  No  ; 
I  am  a  soid-priest^'  he  haughtily  replied;  "I 
sing  mass  to  save  souls." — "Do  you,  sir?"  re- 
joined Brown,  somewhat  ironically.  "  That  is 
well  done ;  and  can  you  tell  me  where  you 
find  the  soul  when  you  begin  the  mass  ?" — 
"I  cannot,"  said  the  priest. — "And  where  you 
leave  it  when  the  mass  is  ended  ?" — "  I  do  not 
know." — "  What !"  continued  Brown  with  marks 
of  astonishment,  "  you  do  not  know  where  you 
find   the   soul  or  where  you   leave  it,  and  yet 


26  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

you  say  that  you  save  it!" — "Go  thy  ways," 
said  the  priest  angrily ;  "  thou  art  a  heretic, 
and  I  will  be  even  with  thee."  Thenceforward 
the  priest  and  his  neighbor  conversed  no  more 
together.  At  last  they  reached  Gravesend, 
and  the  boat  anchored. 

As  soon  as  the  priest  had  landed  he  has- 
tened to  two  of  his  friends,  Walter  and  Wil- 
liam More,  and  all  three,  mounting  their  horses, 
set  off  for  Canterbury  and  denounced  Brown 
to  the  archbishop. 

In  the  mean  time,  John  Brown  had  reached 
home.  Three  days  later,  his  wife,  Elizabeth, 
who  had  just  left  her  chamber,  went  to  church, 
dressed  all  in  white,  to  return  thanks  to  God 
for  delivering  her  in  the  perils  of  childbirth. 
Her  husband,  assisted  by  her  daughter  Alice 
and  the  maid-servant,  were  preparing  for  their 
friends  the  feast  usual  on  such  occasions,  and 
they  had  all  of  them  taken  their  seats  at  table, 
joy  beaming  on  every  face,  when  the  street- 
door  was  abruptly  opened,  and  Chilton  the 
constable,  a  cruel  and  savage  man,  accompa- 
nied by  several  of  the  archbishop's  apparitors, 
seized  upon  the  worthy  townsman.  All  sprang 
from  their  seats  in  alarm :  Elizabeth  and  Alice 
uttered  the  most  heartrending  cries ;  but  the 
primate's  officers,  without  showing  any  emo- 
tion, pulled  Brown  out  of  the  house  and  placed 
him  on  horseback,  tying  his  feet  under  the  ani- 


JOHN  BROWN.  27 

mal's  belly.  It  is  a  serious  matter  to  jest  with 
a  priest.  The  cavalcade  rode  off  quickly,  and 
Brown  was  thrown  into  prison,  and  there  left 
forty  days. 

At  the  end  of  this  time  the  archbishop  of  Can- 
terbury and  the  bishop  of  Rochester  called  before 
them  the  impudent  fellow  who  doubted  whether 
a  priest's  mass  could  save  souls,  and  required 
him  to  retract  his  "  blasphemy."  But  Brown, 
if  he  did  not  believe  in  the  mass,  believed  in 
the  gospel.  "  Christ  was  once  offered,"  he  said, 
*'  to  take  away  the  sins  of  many.  It  is  by  this 
sacrifice  we  are  saved,  and  not  by  the  repeti- 
tions of  the  priests."  At  this  reply  the  "arch- 
bishop made  a  sign  to  the  executioners,  one  of 
whom  took  off  the  shoes  and  stockings  of  this 
pious  Christian,  while  the  other  brought  in  a 
pan  of  burning  coals,  upon  which  they  set  the 
martyr's  feet.  The  English  laws  in  truth  for- 
bade torture  to  be  inflicted  on  any  subject  of 
the  Crown,  but  the  clergy  thought  themselves 
above  the  laws.  "  Confess  the  efficacy  of  the 
mass,"  cried  the  two  bishops  to  poor  Brown. — 
"  If  I  deny  my  Lord  upon  earth,"  he  replied, 
"  he  will  deny  me  before  his  Father  in  heaven." 
The  flesh  was  burnt  off  the  soles  of  his  feet, 
even  to  the  bones,  and  still  John  Brown  re- 
mained unshaken.  The  bishops  therefore  or- 
dered him  to  be  given  over  to  the  secular  arm, 
that  he  might  be  burnt  alive. 


25  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

On  the  Saturday  preceding  the  festival  of 
Pentecost,  in  the  year  151 7,  the  martyr  was 
led  back  to  Ashford,  where  he  arrived  just  as 
the  day  was  drawing  to  a  close.  A  number 
of  idle  persons  were  collected  in  the  street, 
and  among  them  was  Brown's  maid-servant, 
who  ran  off  crying  to  the  house  and  told  her 
mistress,  "  I  have  seen  him  ;  he  was  bound,  and 
they  were  taking  him  to  prison."  Elizabeth 
hastened  to  her  husband,  and  found  him  sitting 
with  his  feet  in  the  stocks,  his  features  changed 
by  suffering,  and  expecting  to  be  burnt  alive  on 
the  morrow.  The  poor  woman  sat  down  be- 
side him,  weeping  most  bitterly,  while  he,  be- 
ing hindered  by  his  chains,  could  not  so  much 
as  bend  toward  her.  "  I  cannot  set  my  feet  to 
the  ground,"  said  he,  ''for  the  bishops  have  burnt 
them  to  the  bones  ;  but  they  could  not  burn  my 
tongue  and  prevent  my  confessing  the  Lord. 
Oh,  Elizabeth  !  continue  to  love  him,  for  he  is 
good,  and  bring  up  our  children  in  his  fear." 

On  the  following  morning — it  was  Whitsun- 
day— the  brutal  Chilton  and  his  assistants  led 
Brown  to  the  place  of  execution  and  fastened 
him  to  the  stake.  Elizabeth  and  Alice,  with 
his  other  children  and  his  friends,  desirous  of 
receiving  his  last  sigh,  surrounded  the  pile, 
uttering  cries  of  anguish.  The  fagots  were  set 
on  fire,  while  Brown,  calm  and  collected  and 
full  of  confidence  in  the  blood  of  the  Saviour, 


JOHN  BROWN.  29 

clasped    his    hands    and    repeated    this    hymn, 
which  Fox  has  preserved : 

"O  Lord,  I  yield  me  to  thy  grace; 
Grant  me  mercy  for  my  trespass; 
Let  never  the  fiend  my  soul  chase. 
Lord,  I  will  bow,  and  thou  shalt  beat; 
Let  never  my  soul  come  in  hell-heat." 

The  martyr  was  silent :  the  flames  had  con- 
sumed their  victim.  Then  redoubled  cries  of 
anguish  rent  the  air.  His  wife  and  daughter 
seemed  as  if  they  would  lose  their  senses.  The 
bystanders  showed  them  the  tenderest  compas- 
sion, and  turned  with  a  movement  of  indigna- 
tion toward  the  executioners.  The  brutal  Chil- 
ton, perceiving  this,  cried  out,  "  Come  along ; 
let  us  toss  the  heretic's  children  into  the  flames, 
lest  they  should  one  day  spring  from  their  fa- 
ther's ashes."  He  rushed  toward  Alice,  and 
was  about  to  lay  hold  of  her  when  the  maiden 
shrank  back  screamine  with  horror.  To  the 
end  of  her  life  she  recollected  the  fearful  mo- 
ment, and  to  her  we  are  indebted  for  the  par- 
ticulars. The  fury  of  the  monster  was  check- 
ed. Such  were  the  scenes  passing  in  England 
shortly  before  the  Reformation. 


30  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

V. 

THE  FIRST  PROTESTANT  MARTYRS  IN 
GERMANY, 

A.  D.  1523. 

On  all  sides  the  Romish  priests  were  under 
arms.  The  city  of  Miltenberg  on  the  Main, 
which  belonged  to  the  archbishop  of  Mentz, 
was  one  of  the  German  towns  that  had  re- 
ceived the  word  of  God  with  the  greatest 
eagerness.  The  inhabitants  were  much  at- 
tached to  their  pastor,  John  Draco,  one  of  the 
most  enlightened  men  of  his  times.  He  was 
compelled  to  leave  the  city,  but  the  Romish 
ecclesiastics  were  frightened  and  withdrew  at 
the  same  time,  fearing  the  vengeance  of  the 
people.  One  evangelical  deacon  alone  re- 
mained to  comfort  their  hearts.  At  the  same 
time  troops  from  Mentz  marched  into  the  city  : 
they  spread  through  the  streets,  uttering  blas- 
phemies, brandishing  their  swords  and  giving 
themselves  up  to  debauchery. 

Some  evangelical  Christians  fell  beneath 
their  blows ;  others  were  seized  and  thrown 
into  dungeons ;  the  Romish  rites  were  restor- 
ed ;  the  reading  of  the  Bible  was  prohibited  ; 
and  the  inhabitants  were  forbidden  to  speak 
of  the  gospel,  even  in  their  most  private  meet- 
ings.    On  the  entrance  of  the  troops  the  dea- 


FIRST  PROTESTANT  MARTYRS  IN  GERMANY.     3 1 

con  had  taken  refuge  In  the  house  of  a  poor 
widow.  He  was  denounced  to  their  command- 
ers, who  sent  a  soldier  to  apprehend  him.  The 
humble  deacon,  hearing  the  hasty  steps  of  the 
soldier  who  sought  his  life,  quietly  waited  for 
him,  and  just  as  the  door  of  the  chamber  was 
opened  abruptly  he  went  forward  meekly,  and 
cordially  embracing  him,  said,  "  I  welcome  thee, 
brother;  here  I  am;  plunge  thy  sword  into 
my  bosom."  The  fierce  soldier,  in  astonish- 
ment, let  his  sword  fall  from  his  hands,  and 
protected  the  pious  evangelist  from  any  fur- 
ther harm. 


THE  THREE  MONKS  OF  ANTWERP. 

The  implacable  inquisitors  of  the  Low  Coun- 
tries, thirsting  for  blood,  scoured  the  country, 
searching  everywhere  for  three  young  Augus- 
tines  who  had  escaped  from  persecution  at  Ant- 
werp. Esch,  Voes  and  Lambert  were  at  last 
discovered,  put  in  chains  and  led  to  Brussels. 
Egmondanus,  Hochstraten  and  several  other 
inquisitors  summoned  them  into  their  presence. 
"  Do  you  retract  your  assertion,"  asked  Hoch- 
straten, "  that  the  priest  has  not  the  power  to 
forgive  sins,  and  that  it  belongs  to  God  alone?" 
He  then  proceeded  to  enumerate  other  evan- 
gelical doctrines  which  they  were  called  upon 
to  abjure. — "  No  !  we  will  retract  nothing,"  ex- 


32  MARTYRS  OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

claimed  Esch  and  Voes  firmly ;  "  we  will  not 
deny  die  word  of  God ;  we  will  rather  die  for 
the  faith." 

Inquisitor.  Confess  that  you  have  been  se- 
duced by  Luther. 

Young  Augustines.  As  the  apostles  were 
seduced  by  Jesus  Christ. 

hiquisitors .  We  declare  you  to  be  heretics, 
worthy  of  being  burnt  alive,  and  we  give  you 
over  to  the  secular  arm. 

Lambert  kept  silence  ;  the  prospect  of  death 
terrified  him ;  distress  and  doubt  tormented  his 
soul.  ''  I  beg  four  days,"  said  he  with  a  stified 
voice.  He  was  led  back  to  prison.  As  soon 
as  this  delay  had  expired,  Esch  and  Voes  were 
solemnly  deprived  of  their  sacerdotal  character 
and  given  over  to  the  council  of  the  governor 
of  the  Low  Countries.  The  council  delivered 
them  fettered  to  the  executioner.  Hochstraten 
and  three  other  inquisitors  accompanied  them 
to  the  stake.  When  they  came  near  the  scaf- 
fold the  youthful  martyrs  looked  at  it  calmly; 
their  firmness,  their  piety,  their  age,  drew  tears 
even  from  the  inquisitors.  When  they  were 
bound,  the  confessors  approached  them  :  "  Once 
more  we  ask  you  if  you  will  receive  the  Chris- 
tian faith." 

The  Martyrs.  We  believe  in  the  Christian 
Church,  but  not  in  your  Church. 

Half  an   hour   elapsed :    the  inquisitors   hes- 


FII^ST  PROTESTAXT  MARTYRS  IN   GERMAXY.      33 

itated,  and  hoped  the  prospect  of  so  terrible  a 
death  would  Intimidate  these  youths.  But, 
alone  tranquil  In  the  midst  of  the  turbulent 
crowd  In  the  square,  they  sang  psalms,  stop- 
ping from  time  to  time  to  declare  boldly,  ''  We 
will  die  for  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ." 

''  Be  converted  !  be  converted  !,"  cried  the  in- 
quisitors, "  or  you  will  die  In  the  name  of  the 
devil." — '*  No,"  replied  the  martyrs,  "  we  will  die 
like  Christians,  and  for  the  truth  of  the  gospel." 

The  pile  was  lighted.  While  the  flames  were 
ascending  slowly  a  heavenly  peace  filled  their 
hearts,  and  one  of  them  went  so  far  as  to  say, 
''  I  seem  to  be  lying  on  a  bed  of  roses."  The 
solemn  hour  was  come;  death  was  near:  the 
two  martyrs  cried  with  a  loud  voice,  "  O  Dom- 
ine  Jesit!  Fill  David!  7niserere  nostril  (O 
Lord  Jesus,  Son  of  David,  have  mercy  on  us !)" 
They  they  began  solemnly  to  repeat  the  Apos- 
tles' Creed.  At  last  the  flames  reached  them, 
burning  the  cords  that  fastened  them  to  the 
stake  before  their  breath  was  oone.  One  of 
them,  taking  advantage  of  this  liberty,  fell  on 
his  knees  in  the  midst  of  the  fire,  and,  thus 
worshiping  his  Master,  exclaimed,  clasping  his 
hands,  "  Lord  Jesus,  Son  of  David,  have  mer- 
cy on  us !"  The  flames  now  surrounded  their 
bodies :  they  sang  the  Te  Deuin ;  soon  their 
voices  were  stifled,  and  nothing  but  their  ashes 
remained. 


34  MA/^TYJiS   OF   THE    REFORMATION. 

Their  execution  had  lasted  four  hours.  It 
was  on  the  ist  of  July,  1523,  that  the  first  mar- 
tyrs of  the  Reformation  thus  laid  down  their 
lives  for  the  gospel. 


VI. 
HOTTINGER, 

A.  D.  1523. 

HoniNGER,  when  banished  from  Zurich  for 
pulling  down  a  crucifix  of  Stadelhofen,  had  re- 
tired to  another  bailiwick,  where  he  had  not  con- 
cealed his  opinions.  One  day,  as  he  chanced 
to  be  dining  at  the  Angel  Tavern  in  Zurzach, 
he  had  said  that  the  priests  wrongly  interpreted 
Holy  Scripture,  and  that  man  should  put  his 
trust  in  God  alone.  The  landlord,  who  was  con- 
tinually going  in  and  out  to  bring  bread  or  wine, 
listened  to  what  appeared  to  him  such  very  ex- 
traordinary language.  Another  day  Hottinger 
paid  a  visit  to  his  friend  John  Schutz  of  Schneys- 
singen.  After  they  had  eaten  and  drank  to- 
gether, Schutz  asked  him,  ''What  is  this  new 
faith  that  the  Zurich  pastors  are  preaching?" — 
"  They  preach,"  replied  Hottinger,  "  that  Christ 
was  sacrificed  once  for  all  Christians — that  by 
this  one  sacrifice  he  has  purified  and  redeemed 
them  from  all  their  sins ;  and  they  show  by 
Holy  Scripture  that  the  mass  is  a  lie." 


HOTTING  Ek.  35 

After  this  (in  February,  1523),  Hottinger 
had  quitted  Switzerland  and  gone  on  business 
to  Waldshut,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Rhine. 
Measures  were  taken  to  seize  his  person,  and 
about  the  end  of  the  same  month  the  poor  un- 
suspecting Zuricher,  having  recrossed  the  river, 
had  scarcely  reached  Coblentz,  a  village  on  the 
left  bank  of  the  Rhine,  before  he  was  arrested. 
He  was  taken  to  Klingenau,  and  as  he  there 
frankly  confessed  his  faith,  the  exasperated 
Flackenstein  said,  "  I  will  take  you  to  a  place 
where  you  will  find  people  to  make  you  a  suit- 
able answer." 

In  effect,  the  bailiff  conducted  him  succes- 
sively before  the  judges  of  Klingenau,  before 
the  superior  tribunal  of  Baden,  and,  since  he 
could  find  no  one  who  would  declare  him 
guilty,  before  the  diet  sitting  at  Lucerne.  He 
was  firmly  resolved  to  seek  judges  who  would 
condemn  his  prisoner. 

The  diet  lost  no  time,  and  condemned  Hot- 
tinger to  be  beheaded.  When  informed  of  his 
sentence  he  gave  glory  to  God.  "That  will 
do,"  said  James  Troger,  one  of  his  judges  ;  "  we 
do  not  sit  here  to  listen  to  sermons.  You  can 
have  your  talk  some  other  time." — "  He  must 
have  his  head  taken  off  this  once,"  said  the 
bailiff  Am  Ort,  with  a  laugh;  "if  he  should 
ever  get  It  on  again,  we  will  all  embrace  his 
faith." — "  May  God  forgive  all  those  who  have 


36  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

condemned  me !"  said  die  prisoner.  A  monk 
then  presented  a  crucifix  to  his  lips,  but  he  put 
it  away,  saying,  "  It  is  in  the  heart  that  we  must 
receive  Jesus  Christ." 

When  he  was  led  out  to  execution  many  of 
the  spectators  could  not  refrain  from  tears.  ''  I 
am  going  to  eternal  happiness,"  said  he,  turn- 
ing toward  them.  On  reaching  the  place  where 
he  was  to  die  he  raised  his  hands  to  heaven, 
exclaiming,  ''  Into  thy  hands,  O  my  Redeemer,  I 
commit  my  spirit."  In  another  minute  his  head 
rolled  upon  the  scaffold. 


VII. 
WIRTH  AND   HIS  TWO  SONS, 

A.  D.  1524. 

At  Stammheim,  Switzerland,  lived  the  deputy 
bailiff  Wirth,  whose  two  eldest  sons,  Adrian 
and  John,  both  young  priests  full  of  piety  and 
courage,  were  preaching  the  gospel  with  great 
unction.  John  especially  abounded  in  faith, 
and  was  ready  to  sacrifice  his  life  for  his  Sa- 
viour. This  was  truly  a  patriarchal  family. 
Hannah,  the  mother,  who  had  borne  the  bail- 
iff many  children  and  brought  them  up  in  the 
fear  of  the  Lord,  was  revered  for  her  virtues 
throughout  the  whole  district.  At  the  noise 
of  the  tumult  in   Burg  the  father  and  the  two 


WIRTH  AND   HIS    TWO   SONS.  3/ 

eldest  sons  went  out  like  their  neighbors.  The 
father  was  indignant  that  the  bailiff  of  Frauen- 
feld  should  have  exercised  his  authority  in  a 
manner  contrary  to  the  laws  of  the  country. 
The  sons  learned  with  sorrow  that  their  bro- 
ther, their  friend,  the  man  whose  good  exam- 
ple they  were  delighted  to  follow,  had  been 
dragged  away  like  a  criminal.  Each  of  them 
seized  a  halberd,  and  in  spite  of  the  fears  of  a 
tender  wife  and  mother  the  father  and  his  two 
sons  joined  the  band  of  citizens  of  Stein  with 
the  determination  of  rescuing  their  pastor. 
Unhappily,  a  number  of  those  miscreants  who 
make  their  appearance  in  every  disorder  had 
joined  the  expedition  ;  they  pursued  the  bail- 
iff's officers ;  the  latter,  hearing  the  tocsin  and 
the  shouts  of  alarm,  redoubled  their  speed, 
dragging  their  victim  after  them,  and  soon 
placed  the  river  Thur  between  themselves  and 
their  pursuers. 

When  the  people  of  Stein  and  Stammheim 
reached  the  bank  of  the  river,  and  found  no 
means  of  crossing,  they  halted,  and  resolved  to 
send  a  deputation  to  Frauenfeld.  "  Oh,"  said 
the  bailiff  Wirth,  "  the  pastor  of  Stein  is  so 
dear  to  us  that  for  his  sake  I  would  willingly 
sacrifice  my  goods,  my  liberty  and  my  life." 
The  populace,  finding  themselves  near  the  Car- 
thusian convent  of  Ittingen,  whose  inmates 
were  believed  to  have  encouraged  the  tyranny 


38  MARTYRS  OF  THE   REFORMATION. 

of  the  bailiff  Am-Berg,  entered  the  building 
and  took  possession  of  the  refectory. 

These  miserable  wretches  soon  became  in- 
toxicated, and  shameful  disorders  were  the 
consequence.  Wirth  vainly  entreated  them  to 
leave  the  convent ;  he  was  in  danger  of  being 
maltreated  by  them.  His  son  Adrian  remain- 
ed outside  the  cloister.  John  entered,  but  soon 
came  out  again,  distressed  at  what  he  had  seen. 
The  drunken  peasants  proceeded  to  ransack 
the  wine-cellars  and  the  store-rooms,  to  break 
the  furniture  and  burn  the  books. 

When  the  news  of  these  disorders  reached 
Zurich,  some  deputies  from  the  council  hasten- 
ed to  the  spot  and  ordered  all  persons  under 
the  jurisdiction  of  the  canton  to  return  to  their 
homes.  They  did  so  immediately.  But  a  body 
of  Thurgovlans,  attracted  by  the  disturbance, 
established  themselves  in  the  convent  for  the 
sake  of  its  good  cheer.  On  a  sudden  a  fire 
broke  out,  no  one  knew  how,  and  the  monas- 
tery was  burnt  to  the  ground. 

Five  days  after  this  the  deputies  of  the  can- 
tons met  at  Zug.  Nothing  was  heard  in  the 
assembly  but  threats  of  vengeance  and  of  death. 
*'  L>et  us  march  with  banners  flying  on  Stein  and 
Stammheim,"  said  they,  "and  put  the  inhabit- 
ants to  the  sword."  The  deputy  bailiff  and  his 
two  sons  had  long  been  objects  of  especial  dis- 
like on  account  of  their  faith.     "  If  any  one  is 


WIRTH  AND   HIS    TWO   SONS.  39 

guilty,"  said  the  deputy  of  Zurich,  ''  he  must 
be  punished,  but  according,  to  the  laws  of  jus- 
tice, and  not  by  violence."  Vadian,  deputy  of 
St.  Gall,  supported  this  opinion.  Upon  this  the 
avoyer,  John  Hug  of  Lucerne,  unable  to  con- 
tain himself  any  longer,  exclaimed  with  fright- 
ful imprecations,  *'  The  heretic  Zwingle  is  the 
father  of  all  these  insurrections  ;  and  you  too, 
doctor  of  St.  Gall,  are  favorable  to  his  infa- 
mous cause  and  aid  him  in  securino;  its  tri- 
umphs.  You  ought  no  longer  to  have  a  seat 
among  us."  The  deputy  of  Zug  endeavored 
to  restore  peace,  but  in  vain.  Vadian  left  the 
hall,  and,  as  the  populace  had  designs  upon  his 
life,  he  quitted  the  town  secretly,  and  reached 
the  convent  of  Cappel  by  a  circuitous  route. 

Zurich,  intent  on  suppressing  every  disor- 
der, resolved  to  apprehend  provisionally  those 
persons  who  were  marked  out  by  the  rage  of 
the  confederates.  Wirth  and  his  two  sons  were 
living  quietly  at  Stammheim.  "  Never  will  the 
enemies  of  God  be  able  to  vanquish  his  friends," 
said  Adrian  Wirth  from  the  pulpit. 

The  father  was  warned  of  the  fate  impend- 
ing over  him,  and  was  entreated  to  flee  with 
his  two  sons.  "  No,"  answered  he  ;  "I  will  wait 
for  the  officers,  putting  my  trust  in  God."  And 
when  the  soldiers  made  their  appearance  at  his 
house,  he  said,  ''  My  lords  of  Zurich  might  have 
spared  themselves  all  this  trouble  :  if  they  had 


40  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

only  sent  a  child  I  should  have  obeyed  their 
summons."  The  three  Wirths  were  taken  to 
Zurich  and  put  in  prison.  Rutiman,  bailiff  of 
Nussbaum,  shared  their  fate.  They  were 
strictly  examined,  but  nothing  reprehensible 
was  found  in  their  conduct. 

As  soon  as  the  deputies  of  the  cantons  had 
heard  of  the  imprisonment  of  these  four  citi- 
zens, they  required  them  to  be  sent  to  Baden, 
and  ordered  that  in  case  of  refusal  their  troops 
should  march  upon  Zurich  and  carry  them  off 
by  force.  "  To  Zurich  belongs  the  right  of  as- 
certaining whether  these  men  are  guilty  or  not," 
said  the  deputies  of  that  state,  "  and  we  have 
found  no  fault  in  them."  On  this  the  deputies 
of  the  cantons  exclaimed,  "  Will  you  surrender 
them  to  us  ?  Answer  yes  or  no,  and  not  a 
word  more."  Two  deputies  of  Zurich  mount- 
ed their  horses  and  rode  off  with  all  haste  to 
their  constituents. 

On  their  arrival  the  whole  town  was  in  agi- 
tation. If  the  prisoners  were  refused,  the  con- 
federates would  come  and  seek  them  with  an 
armed  force ;  to  give  them  up  was  consenting 
to  their  death.  Opinions  were  divided :  Zwin- 
ofle  declared  for  their  refusal.  "Zurich,"  said 
he,  "  ought  to  remain  faithful  to  its  constitu- 
tion." At  last  it  was  supposed  a  middle  course 
had  been  found.  "We  will  deliver  the  prison- 
ers into  your  hands,"  said  they  to  the  diet,  "but 


WIRTH  AND  HIS   TWO   SONS.  4 1 

on  condition  that  you  will  examine  them  sole- 
ly with  regard  to  the  affair  of  Ittingen,  and  not 
on  their  faith."  The  diet  acceded  to  this  prop- 
osition, and  on  Friday  before  St.  Bartholomew's 
Day  (i8th  August,  1524)  the  three  Wirths  and 
their  friend,  accompanied  by  four  councilors  of 
state  and  several  armed  men,  quitted  Zurich. 

A  deep  concern  was  felt  by  all  the  city  at 
the  prospect  of  the  fate  which  awaited  the  two 
youths  and  their  aged  companions.  Sobbing 
alone  was  heard  as  they  passed  along.  "  Alas  !" 
exclaims  a  contemporary,  "  what  a  mournful 
procession !"  The  churches  were  all  filled. 
"  God  will  punish  us  !"  cried  Zwingle.  '*  Let 
us  at  least  pray  him  to  impart  his  grace  to 
these  poor  prisoners  and  to  strengthen  them 
in  the  faith." 

On  Friday  evening  the  accused  arrived  at 
Baden,  where  an  immense  crowd  was  waiting 
for  them.  At  first  they  were  taken  to  an  inn, 
and  thence  to  prison.  They  could  scarcely  ad- 
vance, the  crowd  so  pressed  around  to  catch  a 
sight  of  them.  The  father,  who  walked  in 
front,  turned  toward  his  two  sons  and  ob- 
served to  them  meekly,  "  See,  my  dear  chil- 
dren, we  are  (as  the  apostle  says)  men  ap- 
pointed to  death ;  for  we  are  made  a  specta- 
cle unto  the  world,  and  to  angels,  and  to  men  " 
(i  Cor.  iv.  9).  Then,  as  he  saw  among  the 
crowd  his  deadly  enemy,  Am-Berg,  the  cause 


42  MAKTYNS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

of  all  his  misfortunes,  he  went  up  to  him  and 
held  out  his  hand,  although  the  bailiff  would 
have  turned  away.  ''There  is  a  God  in  heav- 
en who  knows  all  things,"  said  he  calmly  as  he 
grasped  his  adversary's  hand. 

The  examination  began  on  the  following  day  : 
the  bailiff  Wirth  was  first  broucrht  in.  He  was 
put  to  the  torture,  without  any  regard  to  his 
character  or  his  age,  but  he  persisted  in  declar- 
ing his  innocence  of  the  pillage  and  burning 
of  Ittingen.  He  was  then  accused  of  having 
destroyed  an  image  representing  St.  Anne. 
Nothing  could  be  substantiated  against  the 
other  prisoners,  except  that  Adrian  Wirth  was 
married  and  preached  after  the  manner  of 
Zwingle  and  Luther,  and  that  John  Wirth  had 
given  the  sacrament  to  a  sick  man  without  bell 
and  taper. 

But  the  more  apparent  their  innocence,  the 
greater  was  the  fury  of  their  adversaries.  From 
morning  until  noon  they  inflicted  the  cruelest 
tortures  on  the  old  man.  His  tears  could  not 
soften  his  judges.  John  Wirth  was  treated  with 
still  greater  barbarity.  "  Tell  us,"  they  asked 
him  in  the  midst  of  his  anguish,  "  whence  did 
you  learn  this  heretical  faith  ?  From  Zwingle 
or  from  any  other  person  ?"  And  when  he 
exclaimed,  *'  O  merciful  and  everlasting  God, 
help  and  comfort  me!"  "Where  is  your  Christ 
now?"  said  one  of  the  deputies.     When  Adrian 


WIRTH  AND  HIS   TWO   SONS.  43 

appeared,  Sebastian  of  Stein,  the  Bernese  dep- 
uty, said  to  him,  "  Young  man,  tell  us  the 
truth ;  for  if  you  refuse  to  do  so,  I  swear  by 
the  knighthood  that  I  gained  on  the  very  spot 
where  the  Lord  suffered  martyrdom  that  we 
will  open  your  veins  one  after  another." 

They  then  fastened  the  young  man  to  a  rope 
and  hoisted  him  into  the  air.  "  There,  my  little 
master,"  said  Stein  with  a  devilish  sneer — "there 
is  your  wedding-present,"  alluding  to  the  mar- 
riage of  this  youthful  servant  of  the  Lord. 

When  the  examination  was  ended  the  depu-- 
ties  returned  to  their  cantons  to  deliver  their 
report,  and  did  not  meet  again  till  four  weeks 
after.  The  bailiff's  wife,  the  mother  of  the  two 
priests,  repaired  to  Baden,  carrying  an  infant 
child  in  her  arms,  to  intercede  with  the  judges. 
John  Escher  of  Zurich  accompanied  her  as  her 
advocate.  Among  the  judges  he  saw  Jerome 
Stocker,  landamman  of  Zug,  who  had  been  twice 
bailiff  of  Frauenfeld.  "  Landamman,"  said  he, 
"  you  know  the  bailiff  Wirth  ;  you  know  that  he 
has  always  been  an  upright  man." — "  You  say 
the  truth,  my  dear  Escher,"  replied  Stocker,  "  he 
has  never  injured  anybody ;  fellow-citizens  and 
strangers  were  always  kindly  welcomed  to  his 
table ;  his  house  was  a  convent,  an  inn  and  a 
hospital ;  and  so,  if  he  had  committed  robbery 
or  murder,  I  would  have  made  every  exertion 
to  obtain  his  pardon.     But  seeing  that  he  has 


44  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

burnt  St.  Anne,  Christ's  grandmother,  he  must 
die." — "The  Lord  have  mercy  upon  us!"  ex- 
claimed Escher. 

The  gates  were  now  shut:  it  was  the  28th 
of  September,  and  the  deputies  of  Berne,  Lu- 
cerne, Uri,  Schwytz,  Unterwalden,  Zug,  Claris, 
Friburg  and  Soleure,  having  proceeded  to  de- 
liberate on  their  judgment  with  closed  doors, 
as  was  customary,  passed  sentence  of  death 
on  the  bailiff  Wirth,  on  his  son  John,  who  was 
the  firmest  in  his  faith,  and  who  appeared  to 
have  led  away  the  others,  and  on  the  bailiff 
Rutiman.  Adrian,  the  second  son,  was  grant- 
ed to  his  mother's  tears. 

The  officers  proceeded  to  the  tower  to  fetch 
the  prisoners.  "  My  son,"  said  the  father  to 
Adrian,  "  never  avenge  our  death,  although  we 
have  not  deserved  punishment."  Adrian  burst 
into  tears.  "  Brother,"  said  John,  ''  the  cross 
of  Christ  must  always  follow  his  word." 

After  the  sentence  was  read  the  three  Cliris- 
tians  were  led  back  to  prison,  John  Wirth  walk- 
ing first,  the  two  vice-bailiffs  next,  and  a  priest 
behind  them. 

As  they  were  crossing  the  castle-bridge,  on 
which  was  a  chapel  dedicated  to  St.  Joseph,  the 
priest  called  out  to  the  two  old  men,  "  Fall 
down  and  call  upon  the  saints."  John  Wirth, 
who  was  in  front,  turned  round  at  these  words 
and  said,  "  Father,  be  firm.    You  know  that  there 


IVIRTH  AND   ins    TWO   SONS.  45 

is  only  one  Mediator  between  God  and  man, 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ." — "Assuredly,  my  son," 
repHed  the  old  man,  "and  by  the  help  of  his 
grace  I  will  continue  faithful  even  to  the  end." 
Upon  this  they  all  three  began  to  repeat  the 
Lord's  Prayer,  "  Our  Father  which  art  in  heav- 
en," and  so  crossed  the  bridge. 

They  were  next  conducted  to  the  scaffold. 
John  Wirth,  whose  heart  was  filled  with  the 
tenderest  anxiety  for  his  parent,  bade  him  fare- 
well. "  My  dearly  beloved  father,"  said  he, 
"  henceforward  thou  art  no  longer  my  father, 
and  I  am  no  longer  thy  son,  but  we  are  brothers 
in  Christ  our  Lord,  for  whose  name  we  must 
suffer  death.  To-day,  if  it  be  God's  pleasure, 
my  beloved  brother,  we  shall  go  to  him  who  is 
the  Father  of  us  all.  Fear  nothing." — "Amen  !" 
replied  the  old  man,  "  and  may  God  Almighty 
bless  thee,  my  beloved  son  and  brother  in 
Christ!" 

Thus,  on  the  threshold  of  eternity,  did  fa- 
ther and  son  take  leave  of  each  other,  hail- 
ing the  new  mansions  in  which  they  should  be 
united  by  everlasting  ties.  The  greater  part 
of  those  around  them  shed  floods  of  tears. 
The  bailiff  Rutiman  prayed  in  silence.  All 
three  then  knelt  down  "in  Christ's  name,"  and 
their  heads  rolled  upon  the  scaffold. 

The  crowd,  observing  the  marks  of  torture 
upon  their  bodies,  gave  loud  utterance  to  their 


46  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

grief.  The  two  bailiffs  left  twenty-two  children 
and  forty-five  grandchildren.  Hannah  was 
obliged  to  pay  twelve  golden  crowns  to  the 
executioner  who  had  deprived  her  husband 
and  her  son  of  life. 

Thus  blood,  innocent  blood,  had  been  shed. 
Switzerland  and  the  Reformation  were  baptized 
with  the  blood  of  the  martyrs.  The  great  ene- 
my of  the  gospel  had  done  his  work,  but  in  do- 
ing it  his  power  was  broken.  The  death  of  the 
Wirths  was  to  accelerate  the  triumphs  of  the 
Reformation. 


VIII. 

LECLERC  AND  CHATELAIN,  THE  FIRST 
MARTYRS  IN  FRANCE, 

A.  D.  1525. 

The  evangelical  doctrine  was  making  its  way 
into  the  first  families  of  Metz.  The  Chevalier 
D'Esch,  a  man  highly  respected,  and  the  dean's 
intimate  friend,  had  just  been  converted.  The 
friends  of  the  gospel  rejoiced.  "  The  knight, 
our  worthy  master,"  repeated  Peter,  adding 
with  noble  candor,  "  if,  however,  we  are  per- 
mitted to  have  a  master  upon  earth." 

Thus  Metz  was  about  to  become  a  focus  of 
light,  when  the  imprudent  zeal  of  Leclerc  sud- 
denly arrested  this  slow  but  sure  progress,  and 


LECLERC  AND    CHATELAIN.  47 

aroused  a  storm  that  threatened  utter  ruin  to 
the  rising  Church.  The  common  people  of 
Metz  continued  walking  in  their  old  supersti- 
tions, and  Leclerc's  heart  was  vexed  at  seeing 
this  great  city  plunged  in  "  idolatry."  One  of 
their  great  festivals  was  approaching.  About 
a  league  from  the  city  stood  a  chapel  contain- 
ing images  of  the  Virgin  and  of  the  most  cel- 
ebrated saints  of  the  country,  and  thither  all 
the  inhabitants  of  Metz  were  in  the  habit  of 
making  a  pilgrimage  on  a  certain  day  in  the 
year  to  worship  the  images  and  to  obtain  the 
pardon  of  their  sins. 

The  eve  of  the  festival  had  arrived :  Le- 
clerc's pious  and  courageous  soul  was  violent- 
ly agitated.  Has  not  God  said,  "  Thou  shalt 
not  bow  down  to  their  gods  ;  but  thou  shalt 
utterly  overthrow  them,  and  quite  break  down 
their  imagoes"?  Leclerc  thouorht  that  this  com- 
mand  was  addressed  to  him,  and  without  con- 
sulting either  Chatelain,  Esch  or  any  of  those 
whom  he  might  have  suspected  would  have  dis- 
suaded him,  quitted  the  city  in  the  evening,  just 
as  night  was  coming  on,  and  approached  the 
chapel.  There  he  pondered  a  while,  sitting 
silently  before  the  statues.  He  still  had  it  in 
his  power  to  withdraw;  but  to-morrow,  in  a 
few  hours,  the  whole  city,  that  should  worship 
God  alone,  w^ould  be  kneeling  down  before  these 
blocks  of  wood  and  stone.     A  struggle  ensued 


48  MAKTVRS   OF   THE   REFORMAriOX. 

in  the  wool-comber's  bosom  like  that  which  we 
trace  in  so  many  Christians  of  the  primitive 
aofes  of  the  Church.  What  matters  it  to  him 
that  what  he  sees  are  the  images  of  saints,  and 
not  of  heathen  gods  and  goddesses  ?  Does 
not  the  worship  which  the  people  pay  to  these 
images  belong  to  God  alone  ?  Like  Polyeucte 
before  the  idols  in  the  temple,  his  heart  shud- 
ders, his  courage  revives : 

**  Ne  perdons  plus  de  temps,  le  sacrifice  est  pret, 
Allons  y  du  vrai  Dieu  soutenir  I'interet; 
Allons  fouler  aux  pieds  ce  foudre  ridicule, 
Dont  arme  un  bois  pourri  ce  peuple  trop  credule; 
Allons  en  eclairer  I'aveuglement  fatal, 
Allons  briser  ces  dieux  de  pierre  et  de  metal ; 
Abandonnons  nos  jours  a  cette  ardeur  celeste — 
Faisons  triompher  Dieu; — qu'il  dispose  du  reste." 

CORNEILLE :  Polyeticte. 

Leclerc  arose,  approached  the  images,  took 
them  down  and  broke  them  in  pieces,  indig- 
nantly scattering  their  fragments  before  the 
altar.  He  doubted  not  that  the  Spirit  of  the 
Lord  had  excited  him  to  this  action,  and  Theo- 
dore Beza  thinks  the  same.  After  this  Leclerc 
returned  to  Metz,  which  he  entered  at  daybreak, 
unnoticed  save  by  a  few  persons  as  he  was  en- 
terinof  the  orates. 

Meanwhile,  all  were  in  motion  in  the  ancient 
city;  bells  were  ringing;  the  brotherhoods  were 
assembling ;  and  the  whole  population  of  Metz, 
headed  by  the  canons,  priests  and  monks,  went 


LECLERC  AND    CHATELAIN.  49 

forth  in  solemn  procession  :  they  recited  prayers 
or  sung  hymns  to  the  saints  they  were  going  to 
adore  ;  crosses  and  banners  moved  on  in  due 
order,  and  instruments  of  music  or  drums  re- 
sponded to  the  voices  of  the  faithful.  At  length, 
after  nearly  an  hour's  march,  the  procession 
reached  the  place  of  pilgrimage.  But  what 
was  the  astonishment  of  the  priests  when,  ad- 
vancing, censer  in  hand,  they  discovered  the 
images  they  had  come  to  worship  mutilated 
and  covering  the  earth  with  their  fragments  ! 
They  recoiled  with  horror,  and  announced  this 
sacrilegious  act  to  the  crowd.  Suddenly  the 
chanting  ceased,  the  instruments  were  silent, 
the  banners  lowered,  and  the  whole  multitude 
was  in  a  state  of  indescribable  agitation.  The 
canons,  priests  and  monks  endeavored  to  in- 
flame their  minds,  and  excited  the  people  to 
search  for  the  criminal  and  demand  his  death. 
But  one  cry  burst  from  every  lip :  "  Death, 
death  to  the  sacrilegious  wretch !"  They  re- 
turned to  Metz  in  haste  and  in  disorder. 

Leclerc  was  known  to  all ;  many  times  he 
had  called  the  images  idols.  Besides,  had  he 
not  been  seen  at  daybreak  returning  from  the 
direction  of  the  chapel  ?  He  was  seized ; 
he  immediately  confessed  his  crime,  and  con- 
jured the  people  to  worship  God  alone.  But' 
this  language  still  further  exasperated  the  fury 
of  the  multitude,  who  would  have  dragged 
4 


50  MAKTVRS    OF    THE   REFORMATION. 

him  to  instant  death.  When  led  before  his 
judges  he  boldly  declared  that  Jesus  Christ, 
God  manifest  in  the  flesh,  should  alone  be 
adored.  He  was  sentenced  to  be  burnt  alive, 
and  taken  out  to  the  place  of  execution. 

Here  a  fearful  scene  awaited  him.  The 
cruelty  of  his  persecutors  had  been  contriv- 
ing- all  that  could  render  his  punishment  more 
horrible.  Near  the  scaffold  men  were  heating 
pincers  that  were  to  serve  as  the  instruments 
of  their  rage.  Leclerc,  firm  and  calm,  heard 
unmoved  the  wild  yells  of  the  monks  and 
people.  They  began  by  cutting  off  his  right 
hand ;  then,  taking  up  the  burning  pincers, 
they  tore  off  his  nose  ;  after  this,  they  lace- 
rated his  arms,  and  when  they  had  thus  man- 
gled them  in  several  places  they  concluded  by 
burning  his  breasts.  While  his  enemies  were 
in  this  manner  wreaking  their  vengeance  on 
his  body,  Leclerc's  mind  was  at  rest.  He  re- 
cited solemnly  and  with  a  loud  voice  these 
words  of  David  :  "  Their  idols  are  silver  and 
gold,  the  work  of  men's  hands.  They  have 
mouths,  but  they  speak  not ;  eyes  have  they^ 
but  they  see  not ;  they  have  ears,  but  they 
hear  not ;  noses  have  they,  but  they  smell 
not ;  they  have  hands,  but  they  handle  not  ; 
'feet  have  they,  but  they  walk  not ;  neither 
speak  they  through  their  throat.  They  that 
make  them  are  like  unto  them  ;    so  is  every 


LECLERC  AND    CHATELAIN.  5  I 

one  that  trusteth  in  them.  O  Israel,  trust 
thou  in  the  Lord ;  he  is  their  help  and  their 
shield  "  (Ps.  cxv.  4-9) . 

The  sight  of  such  fortitude  daunted  the 
enemies  and  strengthened  the  faithful ;  the 
people,  who  had  before  shown  so  much  an- 
ger, were  astonished  and  touched  with  com- 
passion. After  these  tortures  Leclerc  was 
burnt  by  a  slow  fire,  in  conformity  with  his 
sentence.  Such  was  the  death  of  the  first 
martyr  of  the  gospel  in  France. 

But  the  priests  of  Metz  were  not  satisfied. 
In  vain  had  they  endeavored  to  shake  the 
constancy  of  Chatelain.  "  He  is  deaf  as  an 
adder,"  said  they,  "and  refuses  to  hear  the 
truth."  He  was  seized  by  the  creatures  of 
the  cardinal  of  Lorraine  and  carried  to  the 
castle  of  Nommeny. 

He  was  then  degraded  by  the  bishop's  offi- 
cers, who  stripped  him  of  his  priestly  vest- 
ments and  scraped  his  fingers  with  a  piece 
of  glass,  saying,  "  By  this  scraping  we  deprive 
thee  of  the  power  to  sacrifice,  consecrate  and 
bless  which  thou  receivedst  by  the  anointing 
of  hands."  Then,  throwing  over  him  a  lay- 
man's dress,  they  surrendered  him  to  the  sec- 
ular power,  which  condemned  him  to  be  burnt 
alive.  The  pile  was  soon  erected  and  the  min- 
ister of  God  consumed  by  the  flames.  "  Lu- 
theranism  spread  not  the  less  through  the  whole 


52  MARTYRS  OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

district  of  Metz,"  say  the  authors  of  the  history 
of  the  Galilean  Church,  who  In  other  respects 
highly  approve  of  this  severity. 


IX. 

PASTOR  SCHUCH, 

A.  D.  1525. 

The  fury  of  the  enemy  had  broken  out  in 
Lorraine  with  redoubled  violence.  The  pro- 
vincial of  the  Cordeliers,  Bonaventure  Renel, 
confessor  to  Duke  Anthony  the  Good,  a  man 
devoid  of  shame  and  not  very  commendable 
on  the  score  of  morals,  gave  this  weak  prince, 
who  reigned  from  1508  to  1544,  great  license 
in  his  pleasures,  and  persuaded  him,  almost 
by  way  of  penance,  to  destroy  the  innovators 
without  mercy.  "  It  is  enough  for  every  one 
to  know  his  Pater  and  his  Ave^'  this  prince^ 
so  well  tutored  by  Renel,  would  say ;  "  the 
greater  the  doctor,  the  greater  the  disturb- 
ance." 

Toward  the  end  of  1524  the  duke's  court 
was  informed  that  a  pastor  named  Schuch  was 
preaching  some  new  doctrine  in  the  town  of 
St.  Hippolyte,  at  the  foot  of  the  Vosges.  "Let 
them  return  to  their  duty,"  said  Anthony  the 
Good,  "  or  else  I  will  march  against  the  city 
and  destroy  it  by  fire  and  sword." 


PASTOR   SCHUCH.  53 

Upon  this  the  faithful  pastor  resolved  to  give 
himself  up  for  his  flock,  and  repaired  to  Nancy, 
where  the  prince  was  residing.  As  soon  as  he 
arrived  he  was  thrown  into  a  filthy  prison  under 
the  guard  of  brutal  and  cruel  men,  and  Friar 
Bonaventure  at  last  saw  the  heretic  in  his 
power.  It  was  he  who  presided  at  the  trial. 
"Heretic!  Judas!  devil!"  exclaimed  he.  Schuch, 
calm  and  collected,  made  no  reply  to  this  abuse, 
but,  holding  in  his  hands  a  Bible  all  covered  with 
notes,  he  meekly  yet  forcibly  confessed  Christ 
crucified.  On  a  sudden  he  became  animated ; 
he  stood  up  boldly,  and  raising  his  voice,  as  if 
filled  by  the  Spirit  from  on  high,  looked  his 
judges  in  the  face  and  threatened  them  with 
the  terrible  judgments  of  God. 

Brother  Bonaventure  and  his  companions, 
amazed  and  transported  with  rage,  rushed  upon 
him  with  violent  cries,  tore  away  the  Bible  from 
which  he  was  reading  this  menacing  language, 
"  and  like  mad  clogs,"  says  the  chronicler,  "  un- 
able to  bite  his  doctrine,  they  burnt  it  in  their 
convent." 

All  the  court  of  Lorraine  resounded  with  the 
obstinacy  and  impudence  of  the  minister  of  St. 
Hippolyte,  and  the  prince,  curious  to  hear  the 
heretic,  desired  to  be  present  at  his  last  inter- 
rogatory, but  in  secret,  however,  and  conceal- 
ed from  every  eye.  As  the  examination  took 
place  in  Latin,  he  could  not  understand  a  word, 


54  MARTYRS   OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

but  he  was  struck  with  the  firm  countenance  of 
the  minister,  who  seemed  neither  vanquished 
nor  confounded.  Exasperated  at  such  obsti- 
nacy, Anthony  the  Good  rose  up,  and  said  as 
he  withdrew,  "Why  do  you  still  dispute?  He 
denies  the  sacrament  of  the  mass ;  let  them 
proceed  to  execution  against  him."  Schuch 
was  instantly  condemned  to  be  burnt  alive. 
When  the  sentence  was  made  known  to  him 
he  raised  his  eyes  to  heaven,  saying  mildly, 
"'I  was  glad  when  they  said  unto  me.  Let  us 
go  into  the  house  of  the  Lord.'  " 

On  the  19th  of  August,  1525,  the  whole  city 
of  Nancy  was  in  motion.  The  bells  were  toll- 
ing for  the  death  of  a  heretic.  The  mournful 
procession  set  out.  It  was  necessary  to  pass 
before  the  convent  of  the  Cordeliers,  who,  re- 
joicing and  expectant,  had  assembled  before 
the  gate.  At  the  moment  Schuch  appeared 
Father  Bonaventure,  pointing  to  the  carved 
images  over  the  portals  of  the  convent,  ex- 
claimed, "Heretic!  pay  honor  to  God,  to  his 
mother  and  to  the  saints." — "  Ye  hypocrites  !" 
replied  Schuch,  standing  erect  before  these 
blocks  of  wood  and  stone,  "  God  will  destroy 
you  and  bring  your  deceits  to  light." 

When  the  martyr  reached  the  place  of  exe- 
cution his  books  were  burnt  before  his  face ; 
he  was  then  called  upon  to  retract,  but  he  re- 
fused, saying,  "It  is  thou,    O   God,   who   hast 


JAMES  PAVANNE.  55 

called  me,  and  thou  wilt  give  me  strength  unto 
the  end."  After  this  he  began  to  repeat  aloud 
the  fifty-first  Psalm :  ''  Have  mercy  upon  me,  O 
Lord,  according  to  thy  loving-kindness."  Hav- 
ing mounted  the  pile,  he  continued  to  recite 
the  psalm  until  the  smoke  and  the  flames  sti- 
fled his  voice. 

Thus  the  persecutors  of  France  and  Lor- 
raine beheld  a  renewal  of  their  victories ;  at 
length  men  paid  attention  to  their  advice. 
The  ashes  of  a  heretic  had  been  scattered  to 
the  winds  at  Nancy. 


X. 

JAMES  PAVANNE, 

A.  D.  1524-25, 

Martial  Mazurier  had  been  one  of  the 
most  zealous  preachers.  He  was  accused  of 
teaching  very  erroneous  opinions,  and  even  of 
having  committed  certain  acts  of  violence  while 
at  Meaux. 

"This  Martial  Mazurier,  being  at  Meaux," 
says  a  manuscript  of  that  city,  ''  going  to  the 
church  of  the  reverend  Grey  Friars,  and  seeing 
the  image  of  St.  Francis,  with  the  five  wounds, 
outside  of  the  convent-eate,  where  that  of  St. 
Roch  now  stands,  threw  it  down  and  broke  it 
in   pieces."       Mazurier   was   apprehended    and 


.56  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMOTION. 

sent  to  the  Conciergerle,  when  he  suddenly- 
fell  into  deep  reflection  and  severe  anguish. 
It  was  the  morality  rather  than  the  doctrine 
of  the  gospel  that  had  attracted  him  to  the 
ranks  of  the  Reformers  ;  and  morality  left  him 
without  strength.  Alarmed  at  the  prospect 
of  the  stake,  and  decidedly  of  opinion  that  in 
France  the  victory  would  remain  on  the  side 
of  Rome,  he  easily  persuaded  himself  that  he 
would  enjoy  more  influence  and  honor  by  re- 
turning to  the  papacy.  Accordingly,  he  re- 
tracted what  he  had  taught,  and  caused  doc- 
trines the  very  opposite  of  those  he  had  pre- 
viously held  to  be  preached  in  his  parish ;  and, 
subsequently  joining  the  most  fanatical  doc- 
tors, and  particularly  the  celebrated  Ignatius 
Loyola,  he  became  from  that  time  the  most 
zealous  supporter  of  the  papal  cause.  From 
the  days  of  the  emperor  Julian  apostates,  after 
their  infidelity,  have  always  become  the  most 
merciless  persecutors  of  the  doctrines  they 
had  once  professed. 

Mazurier  soon  found  an  opportunity  of  show- 
ing his  zeal.  The  youthful  James  Pavanne  had 
also  been  thrown  into  prison.  Martial  hoped 
that  by  making  him  fall  like  himself  he  might 
cover  his  own  shame.  The  youth,  amiability, 
learning  and  uprightness  of  Pavanne  created 
a  general  interest  in  his  favor,  and  Mazurier 
imamned  that  he  would  himself  be  less  culpa- 


JAMES  PAVANNE.  57 

ble  if  he  could  persuade  Master  James  to  fol- 
low his  example. 

He  visited  him  in  prison,  and  began  his  ma- 
noeuvres by  pretending  that  he  had  advanced 
farther  than  Pavanne  in  the  knowledge  of  the 
truth.  "  You  are  mistaken,  James,"  he  often 
repeated  to  him ;  "  you  have  not  gone  to  the 
depths  of  the  sea  ;  you  only  know  the  surface 
of  the  waters."  Nothing  was  spared,  neither 
sophistry,  promises  nor  threats.  The  unhappy 
youth,  seduced,  agitated  and  shaken,  sank  at 
last  under  these  perfidious  attacks,  and  pub- 
licly retracted  his  pretended  errors  on  the  mor- 
row of  Christmas  Day,  1524.  But  from  that 
hour  a  spirit  of  dejection  and  remorse  was 
sent  on  Pavanne  by  the  Almighty.  A  deep 
sadness  preyed  upon  him,  and  he  was  contin- 
ually sighing.  "Alas!"  repeated  he,  "there  is 
nothing  but  bitterness  for  me  in  life."  Sad 
wages  of  unbelief!  He  might  be  seen  with  a 
melancholy  air,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  earth, 
groaning  inwardly  and  severely  reproaching 
himself  for  having  denied  his  Saviour  and  his 
God. 

Pavanne  was  undoubtedly  the  most  diffident 
and  inoffensive  of  men  ;  but  what  mattered  it? 
He  had  been  at  Meaux,  and  in  those  days  that 
was  sufficient.  "  Pavanne  has  relapsed,"  was 
the  cry :  "  *  the  dog  is  turned  to  his  own  vomit 
apfain,  and  the  sow  that  was  washed  to  her  wal- 


58  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

lowing  in  the  mire.' "  He  was  immediately 
arrested,  thrown  into  prison  and  taken  before 
his  judges.  This  was  all  that  the  youthful 
James  required.  He  felt  comforted  as  soon 
as  he  was  in  chains,  and  found  strength  suf- 
ficient to  confess  Jesus  Christ  with  boldness. 
The  cruel  persecutors  smiled  as  they  saw  that, 
this  time  at  least,  nothing  could  save  their 
victim;  there  was  no  recantation,  no  flight, 
no  powerful  patronage.  The  young  man's 
mildness,  his  candor  and  courage,  failed  to 
soften  his  adversaries.  He  regarded  them 
with  love,  for  by  casting  him  into  prison  they 
had  restored  him  to  tranquillity  and  joy ;  but 
his  tender  looks  only  served  to  harden  their 
hearts.  His  trial  was  soon  concluded :  a  pile 
was  erected  on  the  Greve,  where  Pavenne 
died  rejoicing,  strengthening  by  his  example 
all  those  who  in  that  large  city  believed  open- 
ly or  secretly  in  the  gospel  of  Christ. 


XI. 

THE  HERMIT  OF  LIVRY, 

A.  D.  1525. 

In  the  forest  of  Livry,  three  leagues  from 
Paris,  and  not  far  from  the  spot  where  once 
stood    the    ancient   abbey   of    the    Augustines, 


THE  HERMIT  OF  LIVRY.  59 

dwelt  a  hermit  who,  in  his  excursions  having 
met  with  some  men  of  Meaux,  had  received 
the  evangeHcal  doctrine  in  his  heart.  The 
poor  hermit  had  felt  himself  rich  in  his  re- 
treat when  one  day,  returning  with  the  scanty 
food  that  public  charity  bestowed  on  him,  he 
carried  back  Jesus  Christ  and  his  grace.  From 
that  time  he  found  that  it  was  better  to  give  than 
to  receive.  He  went  from  house  to  house  in 
the  surrounding  villages,  and  as  soon  as  he  had 
opened  the  doors  of  the  poor  peasants  whom  he 
visited  in  their  humble  huts,  he  spoke  to  them 
of  the  gospel,  of  the  perfect  pardon  that  it  offers 
to  the  burdened  soul,  and  which  is  far  better 
than  absolution.  Ere  long  the  good  hermit  of 
Livry  was  known  in  the  environs  of  Paris  ;  peo- 
ple went  to  visit  him  in  his  lowly  cell,  and  he  be- 
came a  mild  and  fervent  missionary  for  the  sim- 
ple souls  of  that  district. 

The  rumor  of  the  doings  of  this  new  evan- 
ofelist  did  not  fail  to  reach  the  ears  of  the  Sor- 
bonne  and  of  the  magfistrates  of  Paris.  The 
hermit  was  seized,  dragged  from  his  hermitage, 
from  his  forest,  from  those  fields  through  which 
he  used  to  wander  daily,  thrown  into  a  prison 
in  that  great  city  which  he  had  ever  shunned, 
and  condemned  "  to  suffer  the  exemplary  pun- 
ishment of  the  slow  fire." 

In  order  to  render  the  example  more  strik- 
ing, it  was  determined  that  he  should  be  burnt 


6o  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

alive  at  the  front  of  Notre  Dame,  before  that 
splendid  cathedral,  that  majestic  symbol  of 
Roman  Catholicism.  All  the  clergy  were  con- 
voked, and  as  much  pomp  was  displayed  as  on 
the  most  solemn  festivals.  They  would,  if  pos- 
sible, have  attracted  all  Paris  round  the  stake, 
''  the  ereat  bell  of  the  church  of  Notre  Dame," 
says  an  historian,  "  tolling  solemnly  to  arouse 
the  citizens."  The  people  flocked  in  crowds 
through  all  the  streets  that  led  into  the  square. 
The  deep  tones  of  the  bell  drew  the  workman 
from  his  toil,  the  scholar  from  his  books,  the 
merchant  from  his  traffic,  the  soldier  from  his 
idleness,  and  already  the  wide  space  was  cover- 
ed by  an  immense  crowd,  which  still  kept  in- 
creasing. The  hermit,  clad  in  the  garments 
assigned  to  obstinate  heretics,  with  head  and 
feet  bare,  had  been  led  before  the  gates  of  the 
cathedral.  Calm,  firm  and  collected,  he  made 
no  reply  to  the  exhortations  of  the  confessors 
who  presented  him  a  crucifix,  save  by  declaring 
that  his  sole  hope  was  in  the  pardon  of  God. 
The  doctors  of  the  Sorbonne  in  the  front  ranks 
of  the  spectators,  seeing  his  constancy  and  the 
effect  it  was  producing  on  the  people,  cried 
aloud,  "  He  is  damned  :  they  are  leading  him 
to  hell  fire !"  The  great  bell  still  continued 
tolling,  and  its  loud  notes,  by  stunning  the  ears 
of  the  crowd,  increased  the  solemnity  of  this 
mournful   spectacle.      At  length    the   bell   was 


IVOLSEY'S  VICTIMS.  6 1 

silent,  and  the  martyr,  having  repHed  to  the 
last  questions  of  his  enemies  that  he  was  re- 
solved to  die  in  the  faith  of  his  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  was  burnt  by  a  slow  fire,  according  to 
the  tenor  of  his  sentence.  And  thus,  in  front 
of  Notre  Dame,  amid  the  shouts  and  emotion 
of  a  whole  people,  under  the  shadow  of  the 
towers  raised  by  the  piety  of  Louis  the  Young- 
er, peacefully  died  a  man  whose  name  history 
has  not  transmitted  to  us  except  as  the  "  Her- 
mit of  Livry." 


XIL 
WOLSEY'S  VICTIMS, 

A.  D.  1526. 

In  England,  John  Clark,  John  Fryth,  Henry 
Sumner,  William  Betts,  Richard  Taverner,  Rich- 
ard Cox,  Michael  Drumm,  Godfrey  Harman, 
Thomas  Lawney,  Radley  and  others  besides 
of  Cardinal's  College ;  Udal,  Diet  and  others 
of  Corpus  Christi ;  Eden  and  several  of  his 
friends  of  Magdalen  ;  Goodman,  William  Bay- 
ley,  Robert  Ferrar,  John  Salisbury  of  Glouces- 
ter, Barnard  and  St.  Mary's  Colleges, — were 
seized  and  thrown  into  prison.  Wolsey*  had 
promised  them  glory;  he  gave  them  a  dun- 
geon, hoping  in  this  manner  to  save  the  power 

*  The  favorite  cardinal  of  Henry  VIII.  of  England. 


62  MARTYRS  OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

of  the  priests  and  to  repress  that  awakening 
of  truth  and  Hberty  which  was  spreading  from 
the  Continent  to  England. 

Under  Cardinal's  College  there  was  a  deep 
cellar  sunk  in  the  earth  in  which  the  butler 
kept  his  salt  fish.  Into  this  hole  these  young 
men,  the  choice  of  England,  were  thrust.  The 
dampness  of  this  cave,  the  corrupted  air  they 
breathed,  the  horrible  smell  given  out  by  the 
fish,  seriously  affected  the  prisoners,  already 
weakened  by  study.  Their  hearts  were  burst- 
ing with  groans,  their  faith  was  shaken,  and  the 
most  mournful  scenes  followed  each  other  in  this 
foul  dungeon.  The  wretched  captives  gazed  on 
one  another,  wept  and  prayed.  This  trial  was 
destined  to  be  a  salutary  one  to  them.  ''Alas  !" 
said  Fryth  on  a  subsequent  occasion,  "  I  see 
that  besides  the  word  of  God  there  is  indeed 
a  second  purgatory-  but  it  is  not  that  invented 
by  Rome :  it  is  the  cross  of  tribulation  to  which 
God  has  nailed  us." 

At  last  the  prisoners  were  taken  out  one  by 
one  and  brought  before  their  judges  ;  two  only 
were  released.  The  first  was  Betts,  afterward 
chaplain  to  Anne  Boleyn :  they  had  not  been 
able  to  find  any  prohibited  books  in  his  room, 
and  he  pleaded  his  cause  with  great  talent. 
The  other  was  Taverner  ;  he  had  hidden  Clark's 
books  under  his  schoolroom  floor,  where  they 
had  been  discovered ;  but  his  love  for  the  arts 


WOLSEY'S  VICTIMS.  63 

saved  him.  "  Pshaw !  he  is  only  a  musician,'* 
said  the  cardinal. 

All  the  rest  were  condemned,  A  great  fire 
was  kindled  at  the  top  of  the  market-place ;  a 
long  procession  was  marshaled,  and  these  un- 
fortunate men  were  led  out,  each  bearing  a 
fagot.  When  they  came  near  the  fire  they 
were  compelled  to  throw  into  it  the  heretical 
books  that  had  been  found  in  their  rooms,  after 
which  they  were  taken  back  to  their  noisome 
prison.  There  seemed  to  be  a  barbarous  pleas- 
ure in  treating  these  young  and  generous  men 
so  vilely. 

In  other  countries  also  Rome  was  preparing 
to  stifle  in  the  flames  the  noblest  geniuses  of 
France,  Spain  and  Italy.  Such  was  the  recep- 
tion letters  and  the  gospel  met  with  from  pope- 
ry in  the  sixteenth  century.  Every  plant  of 
God's  must  be  beaten  by  the  wind,  even  at  the 
risk  of  its  being  uprooted ;  if  it  receives  only 
the  gentle  rays  of  the  sun,  there  is  reason  to 
fear  that  it  will  dry  up  and  wither  before  it  pro- 
duces fruit.  "  Except  a  corn  of  wheat  fall  into 
the  ground  and  die,  it  abideth  alone."  There 
was  to  arise  one  day  a  real  Church  in  England, 
for  the  persecution  had  begun. 

We  have  to  contemplate  still  further  trials. 

Clark  and  the  other  confessors  of  the  name 
of  Christ  were  still  confined  in  their  under- 
ground prison.    The  air  they  breathed,  the  food 


64  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATIO  A". 

they  took  (and  they  ate  nothing  but  salt  fish), 
the  burning  thirst  this  created,  the  thoughts  by 
which  they  were  agitated,  all  together  combined 
to  crush  these  noble-hearted  men.  Their  bod- 
ies wasted  day  by  day ;  they  wandered  like 
spectres  up  and  down  their  gloomy  cellar. 
Those  animated  discussions  in  which  the  deep 
questions  then  convulsing  Christendom  were 
so  eloquently  debated  were  at  an  end ;  they 
were  like  shadow  meeting  shadow.  Their  hol- 
low eyes  cast  a  vague  and  haggard  glance  on 
one  another,  and  after  gazing  for  a  moment 
they  passed  on  without  speaking.  Clark,  Sum- 
ner, Bayley  and  Goodman,  consumed  by  fever, 
feebly  crawled  along,  leaning  against  their  dun- 
geon walls.  The  first,  who  was  also  the  eldest, 
could  not  walk  without  the  support  of  one  of 
his  fellow-prisoners.  Soon  he  was  quite  un- 
able to  move,  and  lay  stretched  upon  the  damp 
floor.  The  brethren  o-athered  round  him  souoht 
to  discover  in  his  features  whether  death  was 
not  about  to  cut  short  the  days  of  him  who  had 
brought  many  of  them  to  the  knowledge  of 
Christ.  They  repeated  to  him  slowly  the  words 
of  Scripture,  and  then  knelt  down  by  his  side 
and  uttered  a  fervent  prayer. 

Clark,  feeling  his  end  draw  near,  asked  for 
the  communion.  The  jailers  conveyed  his  re- 
quest to  their  master ;  the  noise  of  the  bolts 
was  soon  heard,  and  a  turnkey,  stepping  into 


WOLSEY'S   VICTIMS.  65 

the  midst  of  the  disconsolate  band,  pronounced 
a  cruel  No.  On  hearing  this  Clark  looked  to- 
ward heaven,  and  exclaimed  with  a  Father  of 
the  Church,  Crede  et  7nanducasti  (Believe  and 
thou  hast  eaten).  He  was  lost  in  thought:  he 
contemplated  the  crucified  Son  of  God ;  by 
faith  he  ate  and  drank  the  flesh  and  blood  of 
Christ,  and  experienced  in  his  inner  life  the 
strengthening  action  of  the  Redeemer.  Men 
might  refuse  him  the  Host,  but  Jesus  had  giv- 
en him  his  body ;  and  from  that  hour  he  felt 
strengthened  by  a  living  union  with  the  King 
of  heaven. 

Not  alone  did  Clark  descend  into  the  shad- 
owy valley:  Sumner,  Bayley  and  Goodman 
were  sinking  rapidly.  Death,  the  gloomy  in- 
habitant of  this  foul  prison,  had  taken  posses- 
sion of  these  four  friends.  The  brethren  ad- 
dressed fresh  solicitations  to  the  cardinal,  at 
that  time  closely  occupied  in  negotiations  with 
France,  Rome  and  Venice.  He  found  means, 
however,  to  give  a  moment  to  the  Oxford  mar- 
tyrs ;  and  just  as  these  Christians  were  pray- 
ing over  their  four  dying  companions  the  com- 
missioner came  and  informed  them  that  "  his 
lordship,  of  his  great  goodness,  permitted  the 
sick  persons  to  be  removed  to  their  own  cham- 
bers." Litters  were  brought,  on  which  the 
dying  men  were  placed  and  carried  to  their 
rooms ;  the  doors  were  closed  again  upon 
5 


66  MARTYKS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

those  whose   lives   this   frightful   dungeon  had 
not  yet  attacked. 

It  was  the  middle  of  August.  The  wretch- 
ed men,  who  had  passed  six  months  in  the  cel- 
lar, were  transported  in  vain  to  their  chambers 
and  their  beds ;  several  members  of  the  uni- 
versity ineffectually  tried  by  their  cares  and 
their  tender  charity  to  recall  them  to  life.  It 
was  too  late.  The  severities  of  popery  had 
killed  these  noble  witnesses.  The  approach 
of  death  soon  betrayed  itself ;  their  blood 
grew  cold,  their  limbs  stiff,  and  their  bedim- 
med  eyes  sought  only  Jesus  Christ,  their  ever- 
lasting hope.  Clark,  Sumner  and  Bayley  died 
in  the  same  week  ;  Goodman  followed  close 
upon  them. 

XIII. 
THOMAS  BENNET, 

A.  D.  1530, 

The  city  of  Exeter  was  at  that  time  in  great 
agitation  ;  placards  had  been  discovered  on  the 
gates  of  the  cathedral  containing  some  of  the 
principles  of  the  "  new  doctrine."  While  the 
mayor  and  his  officers  were  seeking  after  the 
author  of  these  "  blasphemies  "  the  bishop  and 
all  his  doctors,  "  as  hot  as  coals,"  says  the 
chronicler,  were  preaching  In  the  most  fiery 
style.     On    the   following    Sunday,  during    the 


THOMAS  BENNET.  6/ 

sermon,  two  men  who  had  been  the  busiest 
of  all  the  city  in  searching  for  the  author  of 
the  bills  were  struck  by  the  appearance  of  a 
person  seated  near  them.  "  Surely  this  fel- 
low is  the  heretic,"  they  said.  But  their  neigh- 
bor's devotion,  for  he  did  not  take  his  eyes 
off  his  book,  quite  put  them_  out ;  they  did 
not  perceive  that  he  was  reading  the  New 
Testament  in  Latin. 

This  man,  Thomas  Bennet,  was  indeed  the 
offender.  Being  converted  at  Cambridge  by 
the  preaching  of  Bilney,  whose  friend  he  was, 
he  had  gone  to  Torrington  for  fear  of  the 
persecudon,  and  thence  to  Exeter,  and  became 
a  schoolmaster.  Quiet,  humble,  courteous  to 
everybody,  and  somewhat  timid,  Bennet  had 
lived  six  years  in  that  city  without  his  faith 
being  discovered.  At  last,  his  conscience  be- 
ing awakened,  he  resolved  to  fasten  by  night 
to  the  cathedral-gates  certain  evangelical  pla- 
cards. "  Everybody  will  read  the  writing,"  he 
thought,  "  and  nobody  will  know  the  writer." 
He  did  as  he  had  proposed. 

Not  long  after  the  Sunday  on  which  he  had 
been  so  nearly  discovered  the  priests  prepared 
a  great  pageant,  and  made  ready  to  pronouce 
against  the  unknown  heretic  the  great  curse 
"  with  book,  bell  and  candle."  The  cathedral 
was  crowded,  and  Bennet  himself  was  among 
the   spectators.     In   the   middle  stood  a   great 


'68  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

cross  on  which  Hghted  tapers  were  placed,  and 
around  it  were  gathered  all  the  Franciscans  and 
Dominicans  of  Exeter.  One  of  the  priests  hav- 
ing delivered  a  sermon  on  the  words,  "There  is 
an  accursed  thing  in  the  midst  of  thee,  O  Israel," 
the  bishop  drew  near  the  cross  and  pronounced 
the  curse  against  the  offender.  He  took  one  of 
the  tapers  and  said,  "  Let  the  soul  of  the  un- 
known heretic,  if  he  be  dead  already,  be  quench- 
ed this  night  in  the  pains  of  hell-fire,  as  this  can- 
dle is  now  quenched  and  put  out;"  and  with  that 
he  put  out  the  candle.  Then  taking  off  a  second, 
he  continued:  "And  let  us  pray  to  God,  if  he  be 
yet  alive,  that  his  eyes  be  put  out,  and  that  all 
the  senses  of  his  body  may  fail  him,  as  now  the 
light  of  this  candle  is  gone  ;"  extinguishing  the 
second  candle.  After  this  one  of  the  priests 
went  up  to  the  cross  and  struck  it,  when  the  noise 
it  made  in  falling,  re-echoing  along  the  roof,  so 
frightened  the  spectators  that  they  uttered  shrieks 
of  terror,  and  held  up  their  hands  to  heaven,  as 
if  to  pray  that  the  divine  curse  might  not  fall  on 
them.  Bennet,  a  witness  of  this  comedy,  could 
not  forbear  smiling.  "  What  are  you  laughing 
at?"  asked  his  neighbor.  "  Here  is  the  heretic! 
here  is  the  heretic !  hold  him  fast."  This  cre- 
ated great  confusion  among  the  crowd,  some 
shouting,  some  clapping  their  hands,  others 
running  to  and  fro  ;  but  owing  to  the  tumult 
Bennet  succeeded  in  making  his  escape. 


THOMAS  BENNET.  69 

The  excommunication  did  but  increase  his 
desire  to  attack  the  Romish  superstitions  ;  and 
accordingly,  before  five  o'clock  the  next  morn- 
ing (it  was  in  the  month  of  October,  1530),  his 
servant-boy,  by  his  orders,  fastened  up  again 
on  the  cathedral-gates  some  placards  similar  to 
those  which  had  been  torn  down.  It  chanced 
that  a  citizen  going  early  to  mass  saw  the  boy, 
and,  running  up  to  him,  caught  hold  of  him  and 
pulled  down  the  papers  ;  and  then  dragging  the 
boy  with  one  hand,  and  with  the  placards  in  the 
other,  he  went  to  the  mayor  of  the  city.  Ben- 
net's  servant  was  recognized ;  his  master  was 
immediately  arrested  and  put  in  the  stocks, 
"with  as  much  favor  as  a  dog  would  find," 
says  Fox. 

Exeter  seemed  determined  to  make  itself 
the  champion  of  sacerdotalism  in  England. 
For  a  whole  week  not  only  the  bishop,  but  all 
the  priests  and  friars  of  the  city,  visited  Ben- 
net  night  and  day.  But  they  tried  in  vain  to 
prove  to  him  that  the  Romish  Church  was  the 
true  one.  "  God  has  given  me  grace  to  be  of 
a  better  Church,"  he  said. — "  Do  you  know 
that  ours  is  built  upon  St.  Peter?" — "The 
Church  that  is  built  upon  a  man,"  he  replied, 
"  is  the  devil's  Church,  and  not  God's."  His 
cell  was  continually  thronged  with  visitors,  and 
in  default  of  arguments  the  most  ignorant  of 
the  friars  called  the  prisoner  a  heretic  and  spat 


70  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

upon  him.  At  length  they  brought  to  him  a 
learned  doctor  of  theology,  who,  they  sup- 
posed, would  Infallibly  convert  him.  *'  Our 
ways  are  God's  ways,"  said  the  doctor  grave- 
ly. But  he  soon  discovered  that  theologians 
can  do  nothing  against  the  word  of  the  Lord. 
"He  only  is  my  way,"  replied  Bennet,  "who 
saith,  'I  am  the  way,  the  truth  and  the  life.' 
In  his  way  will  I  walk ;  his  trtUh  will  I  em- 
brace ;  his  everlasting  life  will  I  seek." 

He  was  condemned  to  be  burnt;  and  More 
havine  transmitted  the  order  de  comburendo 
with  the  utmost  speed,  the  priests  placed  Ben- 
net  in  the  hands  of  the  sheriff  on  the  15th  of 
January,  1531,  by  whom  he  was  conducted  to 
the  Livery-dole,  a  field  without  the  city,  where 
the  stake  was  prepared.  When  Bennet  ar- 
rived at  the  place  of  execution  he  briefly  ex- 
horted the  people,  but  with  such  unction  that 
the  sheriff's  clerk,  as  he  heard  him,  exclaimed, 
"  Truly  this  is  the  servant  of  God."  Two  per- 
sons, however,  seemed  unmoved:  they  were 
Thomas  Carew  and  John  Barnehouse,  both 
holding  the  station  of  gentlemen.  Going  up 
to  the  martyr,  they  exclaimed  in  a  threatening 
voice,  "  Say,  Precor  sanctam  Mariam  et  omnes 
sandos  Dei!' — "  I  know  no  other  advocate  but 
Jesus  Christ,"  replied  Bennet.  Barnehouse 
was  so  enraged  at  these  words  that  he  took  a 
furze-bush  upon  a  pike,  and,  setting  it  on  firC; 


JOHN  PETIT.  71 

thrust  it  into  the  martyr's  face,  exclaiming, 
''Accursed  heretic,  pray  to  Our  Lady  or  I  will 
make  you  do  it." — "Alas!"  replied  Bennet  pa- 
tiently, "trouble  me  not;"  and  then,  holding  up 
his  hands,  he  prayed,  "  Father,  forgive  them  !" 
The  executioners  immediately  set  fire  to  the 
wood,  and  the  most  fanatical  of  the  spectators, 
both  men  and  women,  seized  with  an  indescri- 
bable fury,  tore  up  stakes  and  bushes,  and  what- 
ever they  could  lay  their  hands  on,  and  flung 
them  all  into  the  flames  to  increase  their  vio- 
lence. Bennet,  lifting  up  his  eyes  to  heaven, 
exclaimed,  "  Lord,  receive  my  spirit."  Thus 
died  in  the  sixteenth  century  a  disciple  of  the 
Reformation,  sacrificed  by  Henry  \UI. 


XIV. 
JOHN   PETIT, 

A.  D.  1530. 

Few  citizens  were  more  esteemed  in  Lon- 
don than  John  Petit,  who,  in  the  House  of 
Commons,  had  nobly  resisted  the  king's  de- 
mand about  a  loan.  Petit  was  learned  in  his- 
tory and  in  Latin  literature,  he  spoke  with 
eloquence,  and  for  twenty  years  had  worthily 
represented  the  city.  Whenever  any  import- 
ant affair  was  debated  in  Parliament  the  king, 
feeling   uneasy,  was  in   the  habit  of  inquiring 


72  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

which  side  he  took.  This  poHtical  independ- 
ence, very  rare  in  Henry's  ParHaments,  gave 
umbrage  to  that  prince  and  his  ministers. 
Petit,  the  friend  of  Bilney,  Fryth  and  Tyndale, 
had  been  one  of  the  first  in  England  to  taste 
the  sweetness  of  God's  word,  and  had  imme- 
diately manifested  that  beautiful  characteristic 
by  which  the  gospel  faith  makes  itself  known — 
namely,  charity.  He  abounded  in  almsgiving, 
supported  a  great  number  of  poor  preachers 
of  the  gospel  in  his  own  country  and  beyond 
the  seas ;  and  whenever  he  noted  down  these 
generous  aids  in  his  books  he  wrote  merely 
the  words,  "  Lent  unto  Christ."  He  moreover 
forbade  his  testamentary  executors  to  call  in 
these  debts. 

Petit  was  tranquilly  enjoying  the  sweets  of 
domestic  life  in  his  modest  home  in  the  society 
of  his  wife  and  two  daughters,  Blanche  and 
Audrey,  when  he  received  an  unexpected  visit. 
One  day,  as  he  was  praying  in  his  closet,  a 
loud  knock  was  heard  at  the  street-door.  His 
wife  ran  to  open  it,  but  seeing  Lord  Chancellor 
More,  she  returned  hurriedly  to  her  husband 
and  told  him  that  the  lord  chancellor  wanted 
him.  More,  who  followed  her,  entered  the 
closet,  and  with  inquisitive  eye  ran  over  the 
shelves  of  the  library,  but  could  find  nothing 
suspicious.  Presently  he  made  as  if  he  would 
retire,  and  Petit  accompanied  him.     The  chan- 


THOMAS  BILNEY.  71 

cellor  stopped  at  the  door  and  said  to  him, 
"  You  assert  that  you  have  none  of  these  new 
books?" — ''You  have  seen  my  Hbrary,"  repHed 
Petit. — "I  am  informed,  however,"  repHed  More, 
"  that  you  not  only  read  them,  but  pay  for  the 
printing."  And  then  he  added  in  a  severe  tone, 
"  Follow  the  lieutenant."  In  spite  of  the  tears 
of  his  wife  and  daughters  this  independent 
member  of  Parliament  was  conducted  to  the 
Tower  and  shut  up  in  a  damp  dungeon,  where 
he  had  nothing  but  straw  to  lie  upon.  His  wife 
went  thither  each  day  in  vain,  asking  with  tears 
permission  to  see  him,  or  at  least  to  send  him  a 
bed ;  the  jailers  refused  her  everything ;  and  it 
was  only  when  Petit  fell  dangerously  ill  that  the 
latter  favor  was  granted  him.  This  took  place 
in  1530;  sentence  was  passed  in  1 53 1.  He  left 
his  prison,  indeed,  but  only  to  sink  under  the 
cruel  treatment  he  had  there  experienced. 

Thus  were  the  witnesses  to  the  truth  struck 
down  by  the  priests,  by  Sir  Thomas  More  and 
by  Henry  VIII. 


XV. 
THOMAS  BILNEY, 

A.  D.  1530. 

There    was    among    the    hearers    of    Hugh 
Latimer  one  man  almost  hidden    through   his 


74  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

small  stature :  it  was  Thomas  Bllney.  For 
some  time  he  had  been  watching  Latimer's 
movements,  and  his  zeal  interested  him,  though 
it  was  a  zeal  without  knowledge.  His  energy 
was  not  great,  but  he  possessed  a  delicate  tact, 
a  skillful  discernment  of  character,  which  en- 
abled him  to  distinguish  error  and  to  select 
the  fittest  method  for  combating  it.  Accord- 
ingly, a  chronicler  styles  him  a  "  trier  of  Satan's 
subtleties,  appointed  by  God  to  detect  the  bad 
money  that  the  enemy  was  circulating  through- 
out the  Church."  Bilney  easily  detected  Lati- 
mer's sophisms,  but  at  the  same  time  loved  his 
person  and  conceived  the  design  of  winning 
him  to  the  gospel.  But  how  to  manage  it  ? 
The  prejudiced  Latimer  would  not  even  listen 
to  the  evangelical  Bilney.  The  latter  reflect- 
ed, prayed,  and  at  last  planned  a  very  candid 
and  very  strange  plot,  which  led  to  one  of  the 
most  astonishing  conversions  recorded  in  his- 
tory. 

He  went  to  the  college  where  Latimer  re- 
sided. "  For  the  love  of  God,"  he  said  to 
him,  "  be  pleased  to  hear  my  confession."  The 
heretic  prayed  to  make  confession  to  the  Catho- 
lic:  what  a  singular  fact!  ''My  discourse  against 
Melanchthon  has  no  doubt  converted  him,"  said 
Latimer  to  himself.  "  Has  not  Bilney  once  been 
among  the  number  of  the  most  pious  zealots  ? 
His  pale  face,  his  wasted  frame  and  his  humble 


THOMAS  BILNEY.  75 

look  are  clear  signs  that  he  ought  to  belong  to 
the  ascetics  of  Catholicism.  If  he  turns  back, 
all  will  turn  back  with  him,  and  the  reaction  will 
be  complete  at  Cambridge."  The  ardent  Lati- 
mer eagerly  yielded  to  Bilney's  request,  and 
the  latter,  kneeling  before  the  cross- bearer, 
related  to  him  with  touching  simplicity  the 
ang-uish  he  had  once  felt  in  his  soul,  the  efforts 
he  had  made  to  remove  it,  their  unprofitable- 
ness so  lono-  as  he  determined  to  follow  the 
precepts  of  the  Church,  and,  lastly,  the  peace 
he  had  felt  when  he  believed  that  Jesus  Christ 
is  the  Lamb  of  God  that  taketh  away  the  sins 
of  the  world.  He  described  to  Latimer  the 
spirit  of  adoption  he  had  received,  and  the 
happiness  he  experienced  in  being  able  now 
to  call  God  his  Father.  Latimer,  who  expect- 
ed to  receive  a  confession,  listened  without 
mistrust.  His  heart  was  opened,  and  the 
voice  of  the  pious  Bilney  penetrated  it  with- 
out obstacle.  From  time  to  time  the  confes- 
sor would  have  chased  away  the  new  thoughts 
which  came  crowding  into  his  bosom,  but  the 
penitent  continued.  His  language,  at  once  so 
simple  and  so  lively,  entered  like  a  two-edged 
sword.  Bilney  was  not  without  assistance  in 
his  work.  A  new,  a  strange  witness — the  Holy 
Ghost — was  speaking  in  Latimer's  soul.  He 
learned  from  God  to  know  God :  he  received 
a  new  heart.     At  length  grace  prevailed  :    the 


76  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

penitent  rose  up,  but  Latimer  remained  seated, 
absorbed  in  thought.  The  strong  cross-bearer 
contended  in  vain  ao^alnst  the  words  of  the 
feeble  Bilney.  Like  Saul  on  the  way  to  Da- 
mascus, he  was  conquered,  and  his  conversion, 
like  the  apostle's,  was  instantaneous.  He  stam- 
mered out  a  few  words ;  Bilney  drew  near  him 
with  love,  and  God  scattered  the  darkness  which 
still  obscured  his  mind.  He  saw  Jesus  Christ  as 
the  only  Saviour  given  to  man :  he  contempla- 
ted and  adored  him.  "I  learnt  more  by  this  con- 
fession," he  said  afterward,  "than  by  much  read- 
ing and  in  many  years  before.  I  now  tasted 
the  word  of  God,  and  forsook  the  doctors  of  the 
school  and  all  their  fooleries."  It  was  not  the 
penitent  but  the  confessor  who  received  abso- 
lution. Latimer  viewed  with  horror  the  obsti- 
nate war  he  had  waged  against  God  ;  he  wept 
bitterly,  but  Bilney  consoled  him.  "  Brother," 
said  he,  "  though  your  sins  be  as  scarlet,  they 
shall  be  white  as  snow."  These  two  young  men, 
then  locked  in  their  solitary  chamber  at  Cam- 
bridge, were  one  day  to  mount  the  scafffold  for 
that  divine  Master  whose  spirit  was  teaching 
them.  But  one  of  them  before  going  to  the 
stake  was  first  to  sit  on  an  episcopal  throne. 
Latimer  was  changed.  The  energy  of  his 
character  was  tempered  by  a  divine  unction. 
Becoming  a  believer,  he  had  ceased  to  be 
superstitious.      Instead   of    persecuting    Jesus 


THOMAS  BILNEY.  77 

Christ,  he  became  a  zealous  seeker  after  him. 
Instead  of  caviling  and  railing,  he  showed 
himself  meek  and  gentle ;  instead  of  frequent- 
ing company,  he  sought  solitude,  studying  the 
Scriptures  and  advancing  in  true  theology. 
He  threw  off  the  old  man  and  put  on  the 
new.  He  waited  upon  Stafford,  begged  for- 
giveness for  the  insult  he  had  offered  him, 
and  then  regularly  attended  his  lectures,  be- 
ing subjugated  more  by  this  doctor's  angelic 
conversation  than  by  his  learning.  But  it 
was  Bilney's  society  Latimer  cultivated  most. 
They  conversed  together  daily,  took  frequent 
walks  together  into  the  country,  and  occa- 
sionally rested  at  a  place  long  known  as  "  the 
Heretics'  Hill." 

So  striking  a  conversion  gave  fresh  vigor  to 
the  evangelical  movement.  Hitherto,  Bilney 
and  Latimer  had  been  the  most  zealous  cham- 
pions of  the  two  opposite  causes,  the  one  de- 
spised, the  other  honored ;  the  weak  man  had 
conquered  the  strong.  This  action  of  the  Spirit 
of  God  was  not  thrown  away  upon  Cambridge. 
Latimer's  conversion,  as  of  old  the  miracles  of 
the  apostles,  struck  men's  minds  ;  and  was  it 
not  in  truth  a  miracle  ?  All  the  youth  of  the 
university  ran  to  hear  Bilney  preach.  He  pro- 
claimed ''Jesus  Christ  as  He  who,  having  tasted 
death,  has  delivered  his  people  from  the  pen- 
alty of  sin."     While  the  doctors  of  the  school 


^8  MAKTYKS    OF    THE   REFORMATION. 

(even  the  most  pious  of  them)  laid  most  stress 
upon  mans  part  in  the  work  of  redemption, 
Bilney,  on  the  contrary,  emphasized  the  other 
term — namely,  God's  part.  This  doctrine  of 
grace,  said  his  adversaries,  annuls  the  sacra- 
ments and  contradicts  baptismal  regeneration. 
The  selfishness  which  forms  the  essence  of 
fallen  humanity  rejected  the  evangelical  doc- 
trine, and  felt  that  to  accept  it  was  to  be  lost. 
"  Many  listened  with  the  left  ear,''  to  use  an  ex- 
pression of  Bilney's,  "like  Malchus  having  their 
right  ear  cut  off;"  and  they  filled  the  univer- 
sity with  their  complaints. 

But  Bilney  did  not  allow  himself  to  be  stop- 
ped. The  idea  of  eternity  had  seized  on  his 
mind,  and  perhaps  he  still  retained  some  fee- 
ble relic  of  the  exaggerations  of  asceticism. 
He  condemned  every  kind  of  recreation,  even 
when  innocent.  Music  in  the  churches  seem- 
ed to  him  a  mockery  of  God  ;  and  when  Thurl- 
by,  who  was  afterward  a  bishop,  and  who  lived 
at  Cambridge  in  the  room  below  his,  used  to 
begin  playing  on  the  recorder,  Bilney  would  fall 
on  his  knees  and  pour  out  his  soul  in  prayer: 
to  him  prayer  was  the  sweetest  melody.  He 
prayed  that  the  lively  faith  of  the  children  of 
God  might  In  all  England  be  substituted  for  the 
vanity  and  pride  of  the  priests.  He  believed 
— he  prayed — he  waited.  His  waiting  was  not 
to  be  in  vain. 


THOMAS  BILNEY.  79 

Latimer  trod  in  his  footsteps :  the  transform- 
ation of  his  soul  was  going  on  ;  and  the  more 
fanaticism  he  had  shown  for  the  sacerdotal 
system,  which  places  salvation  in  the  hands  of 
of  the  priest,  the  more  zeal  he  now  showed  for 
the  evangelical  system,  which  places  it  in  the 
hands  of  Christ. 

*  :}:  *  *  :j:  * 

While  strong  passions  were  agitating  Hen- 
ry's palace,  the  most  moving  scenes,  produced 
by  Christian  faith,  were  stirring  the  nation.  Bil- 
ney,  animated  by  that  courage  which  God  some- 
times gives  to  the  weakest  men,  seemed  to  have 
lost  his  natural  timidity,  and  preached  for  a  time 
with  an  energy  quite  apostolic.  He  taught  that 
all  men  should  first  acknowledge  their  sins  and 
condemn  them,  and  then  hunger  and  thirst  after 
that  righteousness  which  Jesus  Christ  gives. 
To  this  testimony  borne  to  the  truth  he  add- 
ed his  testimony  against  error.  "  These  five 
hundred  years,"  he  added,  *'  there  hath  been 
no  good  pope,  and  in  all  the  times  past  we 
can  find  but  fifty  ;  for  they  have  neither  preach- 
ed nor  lived  well,  nor  conformably  to  their  dig- 
nity;  wherefore  unto  this  day  they  have  borne 
the  keys  of  simony." 

As  soon  as  he  descended  from  the  pulpit  this 
pious  scholar,  with  his  friend  Arthur,  visited  the 
neighboring  towns  and  villages.  "The  Jews 
and  Saracens  would  longr  aoro  have  become  be- 


80  MARTYRS    OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

llevers,"  he  once  said  at  Wilsdon,  "  had  It  not 
been  for  the  idolatry  of  Christian  men  in  offer- 
ing candles,  wax  and  money  to  stocks  and 
stones."  One  day  when  he  visited  Ipswich, 
where  there  was  a  Franciscan  convent,  he  ex- 
claimed, "The  cowl  of  St.  Francis  wrapped 
round  a  dead  body  hath  no  power  to  take 
away  sins.  Ecce  agmts  Dei  qui  tollit  peccata 
mundi'  (John  i.  29).  The  poor  monks,  who 
w^ere  little  versed  in  Scripture,  had  recourse  to 
the  almanac  to  convict  the  Bible  of  error.  "  St. 
Paul  did  rightly  affirm,"  said  Friar  John  Bru- 
sierd,  "  that  there  is  but  one  mediator  of  God 
and  man,  because  as  yet  there  was  no  saint 
canonized  or  put  into  the  calendar." — "  Let  us 
ask  of  the  Father  in  the  name  of  the  Son," 
rejoined  Bilney,  "and  he  will  give  unto  us." — 
"  You  are  always  speaking  of  the  Father,  and 
never  of  the  saints^'  replied  the  friar;  "you  are 
like  a  man  who  has  been  looking  so  long  upon 
the  sun  that  he  can  see  nothing  else."  As  he 
uttered  these  words  the  monk  seemed  burst- 
ing with  anger.  "  If  I  did  not  know  that  the 
saints  would  take  everlasting  vengeance  upon 
you,  I  would  surely  with  these  nails  of  mine  be 
your  death."  Twice,  in  fact,  did  two  monks 
pull  Bilney  out  of  his  pulpit.  He  was  arrest- 
ed and  taken  to  London. 

Arthur,  instead  of  fleeing,  began  to  visit  the 
flocks  which  his  friend  had  converted.     "  Good 


THOMAS  BILNEY,  8 1 

people,"  said  he,  "  if  I  should  suffer  persecu- 
tion for  the  preaching  of  the  gospel,  there  are 
seven  thousand  more  that  would  preach  it  as  I 
do  now.  Therefore,  good  people !  good  peo- 
ple !"  (and  he  repeated  these  words  several 
times  in  a  sorrowful  voice),  "think  not  that 
if  these  tyrants  and  persecutors  put  a  man  to 
death,  the  preaching  of  the  gospel  therefore  is 
to  be  forsaken.  Every  Christian  man — yea, 
every  layman — is  a  priest.  Let  our  adversa- 
ries preach  by  the  authority  of  the  cardinal, 
others  by  the  authority  of  the  university,  oth- 
ers by  the  pope's  ;  we  will  preach  by  the  author- 
ity of  God.  It  is  not  the  man  who  brings  the 
word  that  saves  the  soul,  but  the  word  which 
the  man  brings.  Neither  bishops  nor  popes 
have  the  right  to  forbid  any  man  to  preach 
the  gospel ;  and  if  they  kill  him  he  is  not  a 
heretic,  but  a  martyr." 

The  priests  were  horrified  at  such  doctrines. 
In  their  opinion,  there  was  no  God  out  of  their 
Church,  no  salvation  out  of  their  sacrifices. 
Arthur  was  thrown  into  the  same  prison  as 
Bilney. 

On  the  27th  of  November,  1527,  the  cardi- 
nal and  the  archbishop  of  Canterbury,  with  a 
great  number  of  bishops,  divines  and  lawyers, 
met  in  the  chapter-house  of  Westminster,  where 
Bilney  and  Arthur  were  brought  before  them. 
But  the   king's  prime  minister  thought  it  be- 


82  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

neath  his  dignity  to  occupy  his  time  with  miser- 
able heretics.  Wolsey  had  hardly  commenced 
the  examination  when  he  rose,  saying,  "The 
affairs  of  the  realm  call  me  away ;  all  such  as 
are  found  guilty  you  will  compel  them  to  ab- 
jure, and  those  who  rebel  you  will  deliver  over 
to  the  secular  power."  After  a  few  questions 
proposed  by  the  bishop  of  London  the  two 
accused  men  were  led  back  to  prison. 

Abjuration  or  death — that  was  Wolsey's  or- 
der. But  the  conduct  of  the  trial  was  confided 
to  Tonstall ;  Bilney  conceived  some  hope.  "  Is 
it  possible,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  that  the  bishop 
of  London,  the  friend  of  Erasmus,  will  gratify 
the  monks  ?  I  must  tell  him  that  it  was  the 
Greek  Testament  of  his  learned  master  that 
led  me  to  the  faith."  Upon  which  the  humble 
evangelist,  having  obtained  paper  and  ink,  set 
about  writing  to  the  bishop  from  his  gloomy 
prison  those  admirable  letters  which,  have  been 
transmitted  to  posterity.  Tonstall,  who  was 
not  a  cruel  man,  was  deeply  moved,  and  then 
a  strange  struggle  took  place — a  judge  wish- 
ing to  save  the  prisoner,  the  prisoner  desiring 
to  give  up  his  life.  Tonstall  had  no  desire 
to  compromise  himself  by  acquitting  Bilney. 
"Submit  to  the  Church,"  said  the  bishop,  "for 
God  speaks  only  through  it."  But  Bilney,  who 
knew  that  God  speaks  in  the  Scriptures,  re- 
mained inflexible.     "  Very  well,  then,"  said  Ton- 


THOMAS  BILNEY.  83 

Stall,  taking  up  the  prisoner's  eloquent  letters ; 
"  in  discharge  of  my  conscience  I  shall  lay  these 
letters  before  the  court."  He  hoped,  perhaps, 
that  they  would  touch  his  colleagues,  but  he 
was  deceived.  He  determined,  therefore,  to 
make  a  fresh  attempt. 

On  the  4th  of  December,  Bilney  was  brought 
again  before  the  court.  "  Abjure  your  errors," 
said  Tonstall.  Bilney  refusing  by  a  shake  of 
the  head,  the  bishop  continued :  "  Retire  into 
the  next  room  and  consider."  Bilney  with- 
drew, and,  returning  shortly  after  with  joy 
beaming  in  his  eyes,  Tonstall  thought  he  had 
gained  the  victory.  ''  You  will  return  to  the 
Church,  then  ?"  said  he.  The  doctor  answer- 
ed calmly,  "  Fiat  judicium  in  nomine  Domini!' — 
*' Be  quick!"  continued  the  bishop;  "this  is  the 
last  moment,  and  you  will  be  condemned." — 
"  HcEC  est  dies  quam  fecit  Dominus^'  answered 
Bilney,  ''  exidtemus  et  Icetemitr  in  ea  /"  (Ps.  cxviii. 
24).  Upon  this  Tonstall  took  off  his  cap,  and 
said,  "  I71  nomine  Patris  et  Filii  et  Spiritus  Sancti. 
Exsurgat  Detis  et  dissipentur  inimici  ejus  f  (Ps. 
Ixviii.  i).  Then  making  the  sign  of  the  cross 
on  his  forehead  and  on  his  breast,  he  gave 
judgment:  "Thomas  Bilney,  I  pronounce  thee 
convicted  of  heresy."  He  was  about  to  name 
the  penalty.  A  last  hope  restrained  him ;  he 
stopped  :  "  For  the  rest  of  the  sentence  we  take 
deliberation  until  to-morrow."     Thus  was   the 


84  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

Struggle  prolonged  between  two  men,  one  of 
whom  desired  to  walk  to  the  stake,  the  other 
to  bar  the  way  as  it  were  with  his  own  body. 

"  Will  you  return  to  the  unity  of  the  Church  ?" 
asked  Tonstall  the  next  day. — "  I  hope  I  was 
never  separated  from  the  Church,"  answered 
Bilney. — "  Go  and  consult  with  some  of  your 
friends,"  said  the  bishop,  who  was  resolved  to 
save  his  life ;  "  I  will  give  you  till  one  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon."  In  the  afternoon  Bilney 
made  the  same  answer.  "  I  will  give  you  two 
nights'  respite  to  deliberate,"  said  the  bishop ; 
''on  Saturday,  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  forenoon, 
the  court  will  expect  a  plain,  definitive  answer." 
Tonstall  reckoned  on  the  night,  with  its  dreams, 
its  anguish  and  its  terrors,  to  bring  about  Bil- 
ney's  recantation. 

This  extraordinary  struggle  occupied  many 
minds  both  in  court  and  city.  Anne  Boleyn 
and  Henry  VIII.  watched  with  interest  the  va- 
rious phases  of  this  tragic  history.  What  will 
happen  ?  was  the  general  question.  Will  he 
give  way  ?  Shall  we  see  him  live  or  die  ?  One 
day  and  two  nights  still  remained ;  everything 
was  tried  to  shake  the  Cambridge  doctor.  His 
friends  crowded  to  his  prison  ;  he  was  over- 
whelmed with  arguments  and  examples;  but 
an  inward  struggle,  far  more  terrible  than  those 
without,  agitated  the  pious  Bilney.  "  Whoever 
will  save  his  soul  shall  lose  it,"  Christ  had  said. 


THOMAS  BILNEY.  85 

That  selfish  love  of  his  soul  which  Is  found  even 
in  the  advanced  Christian — that  self,  which  after 
his  conversion  had  been  not  absorbed,  but  over- 
ruled by  the  Spirit  of  God — gradually  recovered 
strength  in  his  heart  in  the  presence  of  disgrace 
and  death.  His  friends  who  wished  to  save 
him,  not  understanding  that  the  fallen  Bilney 
would  be  Bilney  no  longer,  conjured  him  with 
tears  to  have  pity  on  himself;  and  by  these 
means  overcame  his  firmness.  The  bishop 
pressed  him,  and  Bilney  asked  himself,  "  Can 
a  young  soldier  like  me  know  the  rules  of  war 
better  than  an  old  soldier  like  Tonstall  ?  Or 
can  a  poor  silly  sheep  know  his  way  to  the  fold 
better  than  the  chief  pastor  of  London  ?"  His 
friends  quitted  him  neither  night  nor  day,  and, 
entangled  by  their  fatal  affection,  he  believed 
at  last  that  he  had  found  a  compromise  which 
would  set  his  conscience  at  rest.  *'  I  will  pre- 
serve my  life,"  he  said,  "  to  dedicate  it  to  the 
Lord."  This  delusion  had  scarcely  laid  hold 
of  his  mind  before  his  views  were  confused, 
his  faith  was  veiled ;  the  Holy  Ghost  departed 
from  him ;  God  gave  him  over  to  his  carnal 
thoughts,  and  under  the  pretext  of  being  use- 
ful to  Jesus  Christ  for  many  years  Bilney  dis- 
obeyed him  at  the  present  moment.  Being  led 
before  the  bishops  on  the  morning  of  Saturday, 
the  7th  of  December,  at  nine  o'clock,  he  fell, 
and  whilst  the  false  friends  who  had  misled  him 


S6  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

hardly  dared  raise  their  eyes,  the  Hving  Church 
of  Christ  in  England  uttered  a  cry  of  anguish. 
"  If  ever  you  come  in  danger  for  God's  quar- 
rel," said  Latimer,  "  I  would  advise  you,  above 
all  things,  to  abjure  all  your  friendships ;  leave 
not  one  unabjured.  It  is  they  that  shall  undo 
you,  and  not  your  enemies."  It  was  his  very 
friends  that  brought  Bilney  to  it. 

On  the  following  day  (Sunday,  8th  December) 
Bilney  was  placed  at  the  head  of  a  procession, 
and  the  fallen  disciple,  bareheaded,  with  a  fagot 
on  his  shoulders,  stood  in  front  of  St.  Paul's 
Cross  while  a  priest  from  the  pulpit  exhorted 
him  to  repentance ;  after  which  he  was  led  back 
to  prison. 

What  a  solitude  for  the  wretched  man  !  At 
one  time  the  cold  darkness  of  his  cell  appeared 
to  him  as  a  burning  fire ;  at  another  he  fancied 
he  heard  accusing  voices  crying  to  him  in  the 
silence  of  the  night.  Death,  the  very  enemy 
he  had  wished  to  avoid,  fixed  his  icy  glance 
upon  him  and  filled  him  with  fear.  He  strove 
to  escape  from  the  horrible  spectre,  but  in  vain. 
Then  the  friends  who  had  dragged  him  into  this 
abyss  crowded  round  and  endeavored  to  con- 
sole him ;  but  if  they  gave  utterance  to  any 
of  Christ's  gentle  promises,  Bilney  started  back 
with  affright  and  shrank  to  the  farthest  part  of 
the  dungeon,  with  a  cry  "as  though  a  man  had 
run  him  through  the  heart  with  a  sword."     Hav- 


THONAS  BILNEY.  8/ 

ing  denied  the  word  of  God,  he  could  no  longer 
endure  to  hear  it.  The  curse  of  the  Apoca- 
lypse, "Ye  mountains,  hide  me  from  the  wrath 
of  the  Lamb !"  was  the  only  passage  of  Script- 
ure in  harmony  with  his  soul.  His  mind  wan- 
dered, the  blood  froze  in  his  veins,  he  sank  un- 
der his  terrors ;  he  lost  all  sense,  and  almost 
his  life,  and  lay  motionless  in  the  arms  of  his 
astonished  friends.  ''  God,"  exclaimed  those 
unhappy  individuals  who  had  caused  his  fall — 
'*  God  by  a  just  judgment  delivers  up  to  the 
tempests  of  their  conscience  all  who  deny  his 
truth." 

*  jj:  :i:  :J:  ;ii  ;{: 

A  meek  and  humble  man,  one  dear  to  all 
the  friends  of  the  gospel,  and  whom  we  may 
regard  as  the  spiritual  father  of  the  Reforma- 
tion in  England,  was  on  the  point  of  mounting 
the  burning  pile  raised  by  his  persecutors. 
Some  time  prior  to  Petit's  appearance  before 
his  judges,  which  took  place  in  1 531,  an  un- 
usual noise  was  heard  in  the  cell  above  him  ; 
it  was  Thomas  Bilney,  whom  they  were  con- 
ductinor  to   the   Tower.     We    left   him    at   the 

o 

end  of  1528,  after  his  fall.  Bilney  had  re- 
turned to  Cambridge  tormented  by  remorse ; 
his  friends  in  vain  crowded  round  him  by 
night  and  by  day ;  they  could  not  console 
him,  and  even  the  Scriptures  seemed  to  utter 
no    voice    but    that    of    condemnation.      Fear 


88  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

made  him  tremble  constantly,  and  he  could 
scarcely  eat  or  drink.  At  length  a  heavenly 
and  unexpected  light  dawned  in  the  heart 
of  the  fallen  disciple ;  a  witness  whom  he 
had  vexed — the  Holy  Spirit — spoke  once  more 
in  his  heart.  Bilney  fell  at  the  foot  of  the 
cross,  shedding  floods  of  tears,  and  there  he 
found  peace.  But  the  more  God  comforted 
him,  the  greater  seemed  his  crime.  One  only 
thought  possessed  him,  that  of  giving  his  life 
for  the  truth.  He  had  shrunk  from  before 
the  burning  pile ;  its  flames  must  now  con- 
sume him.  Neither  the  weakness  of  his  body, 
which  his  long  anguish  had  much  increased, 
nor  the  cruelty  of  his  enemies,  nor  his  natural 
timidity, — nothing  could  stop  him :  he  strove 
for  the  martyr's  crown.  At  ten  o'clock  one 
night,  when  every  person  in  Trinity  Hall  was 
retiring  to  rest,  Bilney  called  his  friends  round 
him,  reminded  them  of  his  fall,  and  added, 
"  You  shall  see  me  no  more.  Do  not  stay 
me  :  my  decision  is  formed,  and  I  shall  carry 
it  out.  My  face  is  set  to  go  to  Jerusalem." 
Bilney  repeated  the  words  used  by  the  evan- 
gelist when  he  describes  Jesus  going  up  to 
the  city  where  he  was  to  be  put  to  death. 
Having  shaken  hands  with  his  brethren,  this 
venerable  man,  the  foremost  of  the  evange- 
lists of  England  in  order  of  time,  left  Cam- 
bridge   under    cover    of    the    night,    and    pro- 


THOMAS  BILNEY.  89 

ceeded  to  Norfolk  to  confirm  in  the  faith  those 
who  had  beheved,  and  to  invite  the  ignorant 
multitifde  to  the  Saviour. 

Bilney  possessed  a  sincere  and  Hvely  piety, 
but  a  judgment  less  sound  than  many  of  his 
friends.  He  had  not  got  rid  of  certain  scru- 
ples which  in  Luther  and  Calvin  had  yielded 
to  the  supreme  authority  of  God's  word.  In 
his  opinion  none  but  priests  consecrated  by 
bishops  had  the  power  to  bind  and  loose. 
This  mixture  of  truth  and  error  had  caused 
his  fall.  Such  sincere  but  imperfectly  enlight- 
ened persons  are  always  to  be  met  with — 
persons  who,  agitated  by  the  scruples  of  their 
conscience,  waver  between  Rome  and  the  word 
of  God. 

At  last  faith  gained  the  upper  hand  in  Bilney. 
Leaving  his  Cambridge  friends,  he  had  gone  into 
the  eastern  counties  to  meet  his  martyrdom.  One 
day,  arriving  at  a  hermitage  in  the  vicinity  of 
Norwich  where  a  pious  woman  dwelt,  his  words 
converted  her  to  Christ.  He  then  began  to 
preach  "  openly  in  the  fields  "  to  great  crowds. 
His  voice  was  heard  in  all  the  country.  Weep- 
ing over  his  former  fall,  he  said,  "  That  doctrine 
which  I  once  abjured  is  the  truth.  Let  my  ex- 
ample be  a  lesson  to  all  who  hear  me." 

Before  long  he  turned  his  steps  in  the  direc- 
tion of  London,  and,  stopping  at  Ipswich,  was 
not    content    to    preach    the    gospel    only,    but 


90  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

violently  attacked  the  errors  of  Rome  before 
an  astonished  audience.  Some  monks  had 
crept  among  his  hearers,  and  Bilney,  perceiv- 
ing them,  called  out, ''  *  The  Lamb  of  God  taketh 
away  the  sins  of  the  world.'  If  the  bishop  of 
Rome  dares  say  that  the  hood  of  St.  Francis 
saves,  he  blasphemes  the  blood  of  the  Saviour." 
John  Huggen,  one  of  the  monks,  immediately 
made  a  note  of  the  words.  Bilney  continued : 
"  To  invoke  the  saints,  and  not  Christ,  is  to 
put  the  head  under  the  feet  and  the  feet  above 
the  head."  Richard  Seman,  the  other  brother, 
took  down  these  words.  ''  Men  will  come  after 
me,"  continued  Bilney,  "who  will  teach  the  same 
faith,  the  true  gospel  of  our  Saviour,  and  will 
disentangle  you  from  the  errors  in  which  de- 
ceivers have  bound  you  so  long."  Brother 
Julius  hastened  to  write  down  the  bold  pre- 
diction. 

Latimer,  surrounded  by  the  favors  of  the 
king  and  the  luxury  of  the  great,  watched  his 
friend  from  afar.  He  called  to  mind  their 
walks  in  the  fields  round  Cambridge,  their 
serious  conversation  as  they  climbed  the  hill 
afterward  called  after  them  the  "Heretics'  Hill," 
and  the  visits  they  had  paid  together  to  the  poor 
and  to  the  prisoners.  Latimer  had  seen  Bilney 
very  recently  at  Cambridge  in  fear  and  anguish, 
and  had  tried  in  vain  to  restore  him  to  peace. 
*'  He  now  rejoiced  that  God  had   endued  him 


THOMAS  BILNEY.  9 1 

with  such  Strength  of  faith  that  he  was  ready 
to  be  burnt  for  Christ's  sake." 

Bilney,  drawing  still  nearer  to  London,  ar- 
rived at  Greenwich  about  the  middle  of  July. 
He  procured  some  New  Testaments,  and,  hid- 
ing them  carefully  under  his  clothes,  called 
upon  a  humble  Christian  named  Staple.  Tak- 
ing them  "  out  of  his  sleeves,"  he  desired  Sta- 
ple to  distribute  them  among  his  friends.  Then, 
as  if  impelled  by  a  thirst  for  martyrdom,  he 
turned  again  toward  Norwich,  whose  bishop, 
Richard  Nix,  a  blind  octogenarian,  was  in  the 
front  rank  of  the  persecutors.  Arriving  at 
the  solitary  place  where  the  pious  "  anchoress  " 
lived,  he  left  one  of  the  precious  volumes  with 
her.  This  visit  cost  Bilney  his  life.  The  poor 
solitary  read  the  New  Testament,  and  lent  it 
to  the  people  who  came  to  see  her.  The  bish- 
op, hearing  of  it,  informed  Sir  Thomas  More, 
who  had  Bilney  arrested,  brought  to  London 
and  shut  up  in  the  Tower. 

Bilney  began  to  breathe  again :  a  load  was 
taken  off  him ;  he  was  about  to  suffer  the 
penalty  his  fall  deserved.  In  the  room  next 
his  was  John  Petit,  a  member  of  Parliment  of 
some  eloquence,  who  had  distributed  his  books 
and  his  alms  in  England  and  beyond  the  seas. 
Philips,  the  under-jailer  of  the  Tower,  who  was 
a  good  man,  told  the  two  prisoners  that  only 
a  wooden  partition  separated  them,  which  was 


92  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

a  source  of  great  joy  to  both.  He  would  often 
remove  a  panel  and  permit  them  to  converse 
and  take  their  fruo^al  meals  too^ether. 

This  happiness  did  not  last  long.  Bilney's 
trial  was  to  take  place  at  Norwich,  where  he 
had  been  captured :  the  aged  bishop  Nix  want- 
ed to  make  an  example  in  his  diocese.  A  crowd 
of  monks — Augustinians,  Dominicans,  Francis- 
cans and  Carmelites — visited  the  prison  of  the 
evangelist  to  convert  him.  Dr.  Gall,  provincial 
of  the  Franciscans,  having  consented  that  the 
prisoner  should  make  use  of  Scripture,  was 
shaken  in  his  faith ;  but,  on  the  other  hand, 
Stokes,  an  Augustinian  and  a  determined  pa- 
pist, repeated  to  Bilney,  "  If  you  die  in  your 
opinions,  you   will  be  lost." 

The  trial  commenced,  and  the  Ipswich  monks 
gave  their  evidence.  "  He  said,"  deposed  Wil- 
liam Cade,  "  that  the  Jews  and  Saracens  would 
have  been  converted  long  since  if  the  idolatry 
of  the  Christians  had  not  disgusted  them  with 
Christianity." — ''  I  heard  him  say,"  added  Rich- 
ard Neale,  " '  Down  with  your  gods  of  gold,  silver 
and  stone!'" — "He  stated,"  resumed  Cade,  "that 
the  priests  take  away  the  offerings  from  the 
saints  and  hang  them  about  their  women's 
necks,  and  then,  if  the  offerings  do  not  prove 
fine  enough,  they  are  put  upon  the  images 
again." 

Every  one  foresaw  the  end  of   this  piteous 


THOMAS  BILNRY.  93 

trial.  One  of  Bilney's  friends  endeavored  to 
save  him.  Latimer  took  the  matter  into  the 
pulpit  and  conjured  the  judges  to  decide  ac- 
cording- to  justice.  Although  Bilney's  name 
was  not  uttered,  they  all  knew  who  was  meant. 
The  bishop  of  London  went  and  complained 
to  the  king  that  his  chaplain  had  the  audacity 
to  defend  the  heretic  against  the  bishop  and 
his  judges.  "There  is  not  a  preacher  in  the 
world,"  said  Latimer,  "who  would  not  have 
spoken  as  I  have  done,  although  Bilney  had 
never  existed."  The  chaplain  escaped  once 
more,  thanks  to  the  favor  he  enjoyed  with 
Henry. 

Bilney  was  condemned,  and,  after  being  de- 
graded by  the  priests,  was  handed  over  to 
the  sheriff,  who,  having  great  respect  for  his 
virtues,  begged  pardon  for  discharging  his 
duty.  The  prudent  bishop  wrote  to  the  chan- 
cellor, asking  for  an  order  to  burn  the  heretic. 
"  Burn  him  first,"  rudely  answered  More,  "  and 
then  ask  me  for  a  bill  of  indemnity." 

A  few  of  Bilney's  friends  went  to  Norwich 
to  bid  him  farewell :  among  them  was  Parker, 
archbishop  of  Canterbury.  It  was  in  the 
evening,  and  Bilney  was  taking  his  last  meal. 
On  the  table  stood  some  frugal  fare,  and 
on  his  countenance  beamed  the  joy  that  filled 
his  soul.  "  I  am  surprised,"  said  one  of  his 
friends,  "that  you  can  eat  so  cheerfully." — "I 


94  MARTYRS   OF   THE    REFORMATION. 

only  follow  the  example  of  the  husbandmen  of 
the  county,"  answered  Bilney,  "  who,  having  a 
ruinous  house  to  dwell  in,  yet  bestow  cost  so 
long  as  they  may  hold  it  up."  With  these 
words  he  rose  from  the  table  and  sat  down 
near  his  friends,  one  of  whom  said  to  him, 
''  To-morrow  the  fire  will  make  you  feel  its 
devouring  fierceness,  but  God's  Holy  Spirit 
will  cool  it  for  your  everlasting  refreshing." 
Bilney,  appearing  to  reflect  upon  what  had 
been  said,  stretched  out  his  hand  toward  the 
lamp  that  was  burning  on  the  table  and  placed 
his  finger  in  the  hot  flame.  "  What  are  you 
doing?"  they  exclaimed. — "Nothing,"  he  re- 
plied ;  "  I  am  only  trying  my  flesh.  To-mor- 
row God's  rods  shall  burn  my  whole  body  in 
the  fire."  And  still  keeping  his  finger  in  the 
flame,  as  if  he  were  making  a  curious  experi- 
ment, he  continued,  "  I  feel  that  fire  by  God's 
ordinance  is  naturally  hot,  but  yet  I  am  per- 
suaded, by  God's  holy  word  and  the  expe- 
rience of  the  martyrs,  that  when  the  flames 
consume  me  I  shall  not  feel  them.  Howso- 
ever this  stubble  of  my  body  shall  be  wasted 
by  it,  a  pain  for  the  time  is  followed  by  joy 
unspeakable."  He  then  withdrew  his  finger, 
the  first  joint  of  which  was  burnt.  He  added, 
"  '  When  thou  walkest  through  the  fire,  thou 
shalt  not  be  burnt.'" — "These  words  remain- 
ed imprinted  on   the  hearts  of  all  who  heard 


THOMAS  BILNEY.  95 

them  until  the  day  of  their  death,"  says  a 
chronicler. 

Beyond  the  city-gate — that  known  as  the 
"  Bishop's  Gate  " — was  a  low  valley  called  the 
"Lollards*  Pit;"  it  was  surrounded  by  rising 
ground,  forming  a  sort  of  amphitheatre.  On 
Saturday,  the  19th  of  August,  a  body  of  jave- 
lin-men came  to  fetch  Bilney,  who  met  them  at 
the  prison-gate.  One  of  his  friends  approach- 
ing and  exhorting  him  to  be  firm,  Bilney  re- 
plied, "  When  the  sailor  goes  on  board  his  ship 
and  launches  out  into  the  stormy  sea,  he  is  toss- 
ed to  and  fro  by  the  waves,  but  the  hope  of 
reaching  a  peaceful  haven  makes  him  bear  the 
danger.  My  voyage  is  beginning,  but,  what- 
ever storms  I  shall  feel,  my  ship  will  soon  reach 
the  port." 

Bilney  passed  through  the  streets  of  Nor- 
wich in  the  midst  of  a  dense  crowd  ;  his  de- 
meanor was  grave,  his  features  calm.  His 
head  had  been  shaved,  and  he  wore  a  layman's 
gown.  Dr.  Warner,  one  of  his  friends,  accom- 
panied him ;  another  distributed  liberal  alms  all 
along  the  route.  The  procession  descended 
into  the  Lollards'  Pit,  while  the  spectators  cov- 
ered the  surroundinpf  hills.  On  arrivine  at  the 
place  of  punishment  Bilney  fell  on  his  knees 
and  prayed,  and  then,  rising  up,  warmly  em- 
braced the  stake  and  kissed  it.  Turning  his 
eyes    toward    heaven,    he    next    repeated    the 


96  MAKTYKS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

Apostles'  Creed,  and  when  he  confessed  the 
incarnation  and  crucifixion  of  the  Saviour  his 
emotion  was  such  that  even  the  spectators  were 
moved.  Recovering  himself,  he  took  off  his 
gown  and  ascended  the  pile,  reciting  the  hun- 
dred and  forty-third  Psalm.  Thrice  he  repeat- 
ed the  second  verse :  "  Enter  not  into  judg- 
ment with  thy  servant,  for  in  thy  sight  shall  no 
man  living  be  justified."  And  then  he  added, 
"  '  I  stretch  forth  my  hands  unto  thee ;  my  soul 
thirsteth  after  thee.'  "  •  Turning  toward  the  ex- 
ecutioner, he  said,  "Are  you  ready?" — "Yes," 
was  the  reply.  Bllney  placed  himself  against 
the  post,  and  held  up  the  chain  which  bound 
him  to  it.  His  friend  Warner,  with  eyes  filled 
with  tears,  took  a  last  farewell.  Bilney  smiled 
kindly  at  him  and  said,  "  Doctor,  pasce  gregem 
tuu77i ;  feed  your  flock,  that  when  the  Lord 
cometh  he  may  find  you  so  doing."  Several 
monks  who  had  given  evidence  against  him, 
perceiving  the  emotion  of  the  spectators,  be- 
gan to  tremble,  and  whispered  to  the  martyr, 
"These  people  will  believe  that  we  are  the 
cause  of  your  death,  and  will  withhold  their 
alms."  Upon  which  Bllney  said  to  them,  "Good 
folks,  be  not  angry  against  these  men  for  my 
sake ;  even  should  they  be  the  authors  of  my 
death,  it  is  not  they!'  He  knew  that  his  death 
proceeded  from  the  will  God.  The  torch  was 
applied  to  the  pile :  the  fire  smouldered  for  a 


RICHARD  BAYFIELD.  97 

few  minutes,  and  then,  suddenly  burning  up 
fiercely,  the  martyr  was  heard  to  utter  the 
name  of  Jesus  several  times.  A  strong  wind 
which  blew  the  flames  on  one  side  prolonged 
his  agony ;  thrice  they  seemed  to  retire  from 
him,  and  thrice  they  returned,  until  at  length, 
the  whole  pile  being  kindled,  he  expired. 

A  strange  revolution  took  place  in  men's 
minds  after  his  death:  they  praised  Bilney, 
and  even  his  persecutors  acknowledged  his 
virtues.  "  Mother  of  Christ !"  exclaimed  the 
bishop  of  Norwich  (it  was  his  usual  oath),  "I 
fear  I  have  burnt  Abel  and  let  Cain  go."  Lat- 
imer was  inconsolable ;  twenty  years  later  he 
still  lamented  his  friend,  and  one  day,  preach- 
ing before  Edward  VI.,  he  called  to  mind  that 
Bilney  was  always  doing  good,  even  to  his  en- 
emies, and  styled  him  "that  blessed  martyr  of 
God." 


XVI. 
RICHARD    BAYFIELD, 

A.  D.  1531. 

One  martyrdom  was  not  sufficient  for  the  en- 
emies of  the  Reformation  in  England.  Stokes- 
ley,  Lee,  Gardiner  and  other  prelates  and  priests, 
feeling  themselves  guilty  toward  Rome,  which 
they  had  sacrified  to  their  personal  ambition, 
desired  to  expiate  their  faults  by  sacrificing  the 


98  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

Reformers.  Seeing  at  their  feet  a  fatal  gulf 
dug  between  them  and  the  Roman  pontiff  by 
their  faithlessness,  they  desired  to  fill  it  up  with 
corpses.     The  persecution  continued. 

There  was  at  that  time  a  pious  evangelist  in 
the  dungeons  of  the  bishop  of  London.  He 
was  fastened  upright  to  the  wall,  with  chains 
round  his  neck,  waist  and  legs.  Usually  the 
most  guilty  prisoners  were  permitted  to  sit 
down,  and  even  to  lie  on  the  floor,  but  for  this 
man  there  was  no  rest.  It  was  Richard  Bay- 
field, accused  of  bringing  from  the  Continent 
a  number  of  New  Testaments  translated  by 
Tyndale.  When  one  of  his  jailers  told  him  of 
Bilney's  martyrdom,  he  exclaimed,  "And  I  too, 
and  hundreds  of  men  with  me,  will  die  for  the 
faith  he  has  confessed."  He  was  brought  short- 
ly afterward  before  the  episcopal  court.  ''  With 
what  intent,"  asked  Stokesley,  "  did  you  bring 
into  the  country  the  errors  of  Luther,  CEco- 
lampadius  the  great  heretic,  and  others  of  that 
damnable  sect?" — "To  make  the  gospel  known," 
answered  Bayfield,  "  and  to  glorify  God  before 
the  people."  Accordingly,  the  bishop,  having 
condemned  and  then  degraded  him,  summoned 
the  lord  mayor  and  sheriffs  of  London,  "  by  the 
bowels  of  Jesus  Christ"  (he  had  the  presump- 
tion to  say),  to  do  to  Bayfield  "according  to 
the  laudable  custom  of  the  famous  realm  of  Eng- 
land."     "  O  ye  priests  !"  said  the  gospeler,  as 


JOHN   TEWKESBURY.  99 

if  inspired  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  *'  is  it  not 
enough  that  your  Hves  are  wicked,  but  you 
must  prevent  the  Hfe  according  to  the  gos- 
pel from  spreading  among  the  people  ?"  The 
bishop  took  up  his  crosier  and  struck  Bayfield 
so  violently  on  the  chest  that  he  fell  backward 
and  fainted.  He  revived  by  degrees,  and  said, 
on  regaining  his  consciousness,  "  I  thank  God 
that  I  am  delivered  from  the  wicked  Church 
of  Antichrist,  and  am  going  to  be  a  member 
of  the  true  Church  which  reigns  triumphant  in 
heaven."  He  mounted  the  pile ;  the  flames, 
touching  him  only  on  one  side,  consumed  his 
left  arm.  With  his  right  hand  Bayfield  sepa- 
rated it  from  his  body,  and  the  arm  fell.  Short- 
ly after  this  he  ceased  to  pray,  because  he  had 
ceased  to  live. 


xvn. 

JOHN  TEWKESBURY, 

A.  D.  1531. 

John  Tewkesbury,  one  of  the  most  respect- 
ed merchants  in  London,  whom  the  bishops 
had  put  twice  to  the  rack  already,  and  whose 
limbs  they  had  broken,  felt  his  courage  re- 
vived by  the  martyrdom  of  his  friend.  "  Christ 
ALONE  !"  he  said  habitually :  these  two  words 
were  all  his  theology.     He  was  arrested,  taken 


lOO  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

to  the  house  of  Sir  Thomas  More  at  Chelsea, 
shut  up  in  the  porter's  lodge,  his  hands,  feet 
and  head  being  held  in  the  stocks  ;  but  they 
could  not  obtain  from  him  the  recantation  they 
desired.  The  officers  took  him  into  the  chan- 
cellor's garden,  and  bound  him  so  tightly  to 
the  tree  of  truth,  as  the  renowned  scholar  call- 
ed it,  that  the  blood  started  out  of  his  eyes ; 
after  which  they  scourged  him.  Tewkesbury 
remained  firm. 

On  the  1 6th  of  December  the  bishop  of 
London  went  to  Chelsea  and  formed  a  court. 
"  Thou  art  a  heretic,"  said  Stokesley,  "  a  back- 
slider ;  thou  hast  incurred  the  great  excom- 
munication. We  shall  deliver  thee  up  to  the 
secular  power."  He  was  burnt  alive  at  Smith- 
field  on  the  20th  of  December,  1531.  '"Now," 
said  the  fanatical  chancellor — ''  now  is  he  utter- 
ing cries  in  hell !" 


XVIII. 
JAMES  BAINHAM, 

A.  D.  1532. 

At  that  time  there  were  many  Christians  in 
England  to  whom  the  Romish  worship  brought 
no  edification.  Having  procured  Tyndale's 
translation  of  the  word  of  God,  they  felt  that 
they  possessed  it  not  only  for  themselves,  but 


JAMES  BAINHAM.  lOI 

for  Others.  They  sought  each  other's  com- 
pany, and  met  together  to  read  the  Bible  and 
receive  spiritual  graces  from  God.  Several 
Christian  assemblies  of  this  kind  had  been 
formed  in  London  in  garrets,  in  warehouses, 
schools  and  shops,  and  one  of  them  was  held 
in  a  warehouse  in  Bow  Lane.  Among  its 
frequenters  was  the  son  of  a  Gloucestershire 
knight,  James  Bainham  by  name,  a  man  well 
read  in  the  classics  and  a  distinguished  lawyer, 
respected  by  all  for  his  piety  and  works  of 
charity.  To  give  advice  freely  to  widows  and 
orphans,  to  see  justice  done  to  the  oppressed, 
to  aid  poor  students,  protect  pious  persons  and 
visit  the  prisons  were  his  daily  occupation.  "He 
was  an  earnest  reader  of  Scripture,  and  might- 
ily addicted  to  prayer.  When  he  entered  the 
meeting  every  one  could  see  that  his  counte- 
nance expressed  a  calm  joy ;  but  for  a  month 
past  his  Bow  Lane  friends  noticed  him  to  be 
agitated  and  cast  down,  and  heard  him  sigh- 
ing heavily.  The  cause  was  this.  Some  time 
before  (in  1531),  when  he  was  engaged  about 
his  business  in  the  Middle  Temple,  this  "  model 
of  lawyers "  had  been  arrested  by  order  of 
More,  who  was  still  chancellor,  and  taken  like 
a  criminal  to  the  house  of  the  celebrated  hu- 
manist at  Chelsea.  Sir  Thomas,  quite  dis- 
tressed at  seeing  a  man  so  distinguished  leave 
the  Church    of   Rome,  had   employed   all   his 


I02  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION: 

eloquence  to  bring  him  back ;  but  finding  his 
efforts  useless,  he  had  ordered  Bainham  to  be 
taken  into  his  garden  and  tied  to  "  the  tree 
of  truth."  There  the  chancellor  whipped  him, 
or  caused  him  to  be  whipped  :  we  adopt  the 
latter  version,  which  is  more  probable.  Bain- 
ham, having  refused  to  give  the  names  of  the 
gentlemen  of  the  Temple  tainted  with  heresy, 
was  taken  to  the  Tower.  "  Put  him  on  the 
rack,"  cried  the  learned  chancellor,  now  be- 
come a  fanatical  persecutor.  The  order  was 
obeyed  in  his  presence.  The  arms  and  legs  of 
the  unfortunate  Protestant  were  seized  by  the 
instrument  and  pulled  in  opposite  directions ; 
his  limbs  were  dislocated,  and  he  went  lame 
out  of  the  torture-chamber. 

Sir  Thomas  had  broken  his  victim's  limbs,  but 
not  his  courage ;  and  accordingly,  when  Bain- 
ham was  summoned  before  the  bishop  of  Lon- 
don, he  went  to  the  palace  rejoicing  to  have  to 
confess  his  Master  once  more.  "  Do  you  be- 
lieve in  purgatory?"  said  Stokesley  to  him 
sternly.  Bainham  answered,  '' '  The  blood  of 
Jesus  Christ  cleanseth  us  from  all  sin.'  " — "  Do 
you  believe  that  we  ought  to  call  upon  the 
saints  to  pray  for  us  ?" — He  again  answered, 
'' '  If  any  man  sin,  we  have  an  advocate  with 
the  Father,  Jesus  Christ  the  righteous.'  " 

A  man  who  answered  only  by  texts  from 
Scripture  was  embarrassing.    Chancellor  More 


JAMES  BAIN  HAM.  IO3 

Stokesley  made  the  most  alluring  promises, 
and  no  means  were  spared  to  bend  him.  Be- 
fore long  they  resorted  to  more  serious  repre- 
sentations. "The  arms  of  the  Church  your 
mother  are  still  open  to  you,"  they  said,  "  but 
if  you  continue  stubborn  they  will  close  against 
you  for  ever.  It  is  now  or  never."  For  a 
whole  month  the  bishop  and  the  chancellor  per- 
severed in  their  entreaties.  Bainham  replied, 
"  My  faith  is  that  of  the  holy  Church."  Hear- 
ing these  words,  Foxford,  the  bishop's  secre- 
tary, took  out  a  paper.  "  Here  is  the  abjura- 
tion," he  said  ;  "  read  it  over."  Bainham  began  : 
"  T  voluntarily,  as  a  true  penitent  returned  from 
my  heresy,  utterly  abjure — '  "  At  these  words 
he  stopped,  and  glancing  over  what  followed,  he 
continued :  "  No,  these  articles  are  not  heretical, 
and  I  cannot  retract  them."  Other  springs  were 
now  set  in  motion  to  shake  Bainham.  The  pray- 
ers of  his  friends,  the  threats  of  his  enemies,  es- 
pecially the  thought  of  his  wife,  whom  he  loved, 
and  who  would  be  left  alone  in  destitution  ex- 
posed to  the  anger  of  the  world, — these  things 
troubled  his  soul.  He  lost  sight  of  the  narrow 
path  he  ought  to  follow,  and  five  days  later  he 
read  his  abjuration  with  a  faint  voice.  But  he 
had  hardly  got  to  the  end  before  he  burst  into 
tears,  and  said,  struggling  with  his  emotion,  "  I 
reserve  the  doctrines."  He  consented  to  re- 
main in  the  Romish  Church,  still  preserving  his 


I04  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

evangelical  faith.  But  this  was  not  what  the 
bishop  and  his  officers  meant.  *'  Kiss  that 
book,"  they  said  to  him  threateningly.  Bain- 
ham,  like  one  stunned,  kissed  the  book ;  that 
was  the  sign ;  the  abjuration  was  looked  upon 
as  complete.  He  was  condemned  to  pay  a  fine 
of  twenty  pounds  sterling  and  to  do  penance  at 
St.  Paul's  Cross.  After  that  he  was  set  at  lib- 
erty, on  the  17th  of  February. 

Bainham  returned  to  the  midst  of  his  breth- 
ren :  they  looked  sorrowfully  at  him,  but  did 
not  reproach  him  with  his  fault.  That  was 
quite  unnecessary.  The  worm  of  remorse  was 
preying  on  him ;  he  abhorred  the  fatal  kiss  by 
which  he  had  sealed  his  fall ;  his  conscience  was 
never  quiet ;  he  could  neither  eat  nor  sleep,  and 
trembled  at  the  thought  of  death.  At  one  time 
he  would  hide  his  anguish  and  stifle  it  within  his 
breast ;  at  another  his  grief  would  break  forth, 
and  he  would  try  to  relieve  his  pain  by  groans 
of  sorrow.  The  thought  of  appearing  before 
the  tribunal  of  God  made  him  faint.  The  res- 
toration of  conscience  to  all  its  rights  was  the 
foremost  work  of  the  Reformation.  Luther, 
Calvin  and  an  endless  number  of  more  ob- 
scure Reformers  had  reached  the  haven  of 
safety  through  the  midst  of  such  tempests.  "A 
tragedy  was  being  acted  in  all  Protestant  souls," 
says  a  writer  who  does  not  belong  to  the  Ref- 
ormation— the  eternal  tragedy  of  conscience. 


JAMES  BAINHAM.  IO5 

Balnham  felt  that  the  only  means  of  recover- 
ing peace  was  to  accuse  himself  openly  before 
God  and  man.  Taking  Tyndale's  New  Testa- 
ment in  his  hand,  which  was  at  once  his  joy  and 
his  strength,  he  went  to  St.'Aiistin's  church,  sat 
down  quietly  in  the  midst  of  the  congregation, 
and  then  at  a  certain  moment  stood  up  and 
said,  "I  have  denied  the  truth — "  He  could 
not  continue  for  his  tears.  On  recovering,  he 
said,  "  If  I  were  not  to  return  again  to  the  doc- 
trine I  have  abjured,  this  word  of  Scripture 
would  condemn  me  both  body  and  soul  at  the 
day  of  judgment;"  and  he  lifted  up  the  New 
Testament  before  all  the  congregation.  "  O 
my  friends,"  he  continued,  "  rather  die  than  sin 
as  I  have  done.  The  fires  of  hell  have  con- 
sumed me,  and  I  would  not  feel  them  again 
for  all  the  gold  and  glory  of  the  world." 

Then  his  enemies  seized  him  again  and  shut 
him  up  in  the  bishop's  coal-cellar,  where,  after 
putting  him  in  irons,  they  left  him  for  four  days. 
He  was  afterward  taken  to  the  Tower,  where  he 
was  scourged  every  day  for  a  fortnight,  and  at 
last  condemned  as  a  relapsed  heretic. 

On  the  eve  of  his  execution  four  distinguish- 
ed men,  one  of  whom  was  Latimer,  were  dining 
together  in  London.  It  was  commonly  reported 
that  Bainham  was  to  be  put  to  death  for  saying 
that  Thomas  a  Becket  was  a  traitor  worthy  of 
hell.     "  Is  it  worth  a  man's  while  to  sacrifice  his 


I06  MAKTYRS    OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

life  for  such  a  trifle?"  said  the  four  friends. 
'*  Let  us  go  to  Newgate  and  save  him  if  pos- 
sible." They  were  taken  along  several  gloomy 
passages,  and  found  themselves  at  last  in  the 
presence  of  a  mail  sitting  on  a  little  straw, 
holding  a  book  in  one  hand  and  a  candle  in 
the  other.  He  was  reading ;  it  was  Bainham. 
Latimer  drew  near  him."  Take  care,"  he  said, 
"that  no  vain-glory  make  you  sacrifice  your  life 
for  motives  which  are  not  worth  the  cost." — "  I 
am  condemned,"  answered  Bainham,  "  for  trust- 
ing in  Scripture  and  rejecting  purgatory,  masses 
and  meritorious  works.  I  acknowledge  that  for 
such  truths  a  man  must  be  ready  to  die."  Bain- 
ham was  ready,  and  yet  he  burst  into  tears. 
"  Why  do  you  weep  ?"  asked  Latimer. — "  I  have 
a  wife,"  answered  the  prisoner,  "  the  best  that 
man  ever  had.  A  widow,  destitute  of  every- 
thing and  without  a  supporter,  everybody  will 
point  at  her  and  say,  'That  is  the  heretic's 
wife.'  "  Latimer  and  his  friends  tried  to  con- 
sole him,  and  then  they  departed  from  the 
gloomy   dungeon. 

The  next  day  (30th  of  April,  1552)  Bainham 
was  taken  to  the  scaffold.  Soldiers  on  horse- 
back surrounded  the  pile:  Master  Pave,  the 
city-clerk,  directed  the  execution.  Bainham, 
after  a  prayer,  rose  up,  embraced  the  stake, 
and  was  fastened  to  it  with  a  chain.  "  Good 
people,"    he    said    to    the    persons    who    stood 


JAMES  BAINHAM.  10/ 

round  him,  "  I  die  for  having  said  it  is  lawful 
for  every  man  and  woman  to  have  God's  book. 
I  die  for  having  said  that  the  true  key  of  heaven 
is  not  that  of  the  bishop  of  Rome,  but  the  preach- 
ing of  the  gospel.  I  die  for  having  said  that 
there  is  no  other  purgatory  than  the  cross  of 
Christ,  with  its  consequent  persecutions  and 
afflictions." — "Thou  liest,  thou  heretic!"  ex- 
claimed Pave ;  "  thou  hast  denied  the  blessed 
sacrament  of  the  altar." — "  I  do  not  deny  the 
sacrament  of  Christ's  body,"  resumed  Bainham, 
''  but  I  do  deny  your  idolatry  to  a  piece  of 
bread." — "Light  the  fire!"  shouted  Pave.  The 
executioners  set  fire  to  a  train  of  gunpowder, 
and  as  the  flame  approached  him  Bainham  lifted 
up  his  eyes  toward  heaven  and  said  to  the  town- 
clerk,  "  God  forgive  thee  !  the  Lord  forgive  Sir 
Thomas  More  ! — Pray  for  me,  all  good  people." 
The  arms  and  legs  of  the  martyr  were  soon 
consumed,  and  thinking  only  how  to  glorify  his 
Saviour,  he  exclaimed,  "  Behold !  you  look  for 
miracles ;  you  may  see  one  here,  for  in  this  fire 
I  feel  no  more  pain  than  if  I  were  on  a  bed  of 
roses." 

The  primitive  Church  hardly  had  a  more  glor- 
ious martyr. 

Pave  had  Bainham's  image  continually  before 
his  eyes,  and  his  last  prayer  rang  day  and  night 
in  his  heart.  In  the  garret  of  his  house,  far  re- 
moved from  noise,  he  had  fitted  up  a  kind  of 


I08  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

oratory  where  he  had  placed  a  crucifix,  before 
which  he  used  to  pray  and  shed  bitter  tears. 
He  abhorred  himself:  half  mad,  he  suffered 
indescribable  sorrow  and  struggled  under  great 
anguish.  The  dying  Bainham  had  said  to  him, 
"  May  God  show  thee  more  mercy  than  thou 
hast  shown  to  me !"  But  Pave  could  not  be- 
lieve in  mercy :  he  saw  no  other  remedy  for  his 
despair  than  death.  About  a  year  after  Bain- 
ham's  martyrdom  he  sent  his  domestics  and 
clerks  on  different  errands,  keeping  only  one 
servant-maid  in  the  house.  As  soon  as  his 
wife  had  gone  to  church  he  went  out  himself, 
bought  a  rope,  and,  hiding  it  carefully  under 
his  gown,  went  up  into  the  garret.  He  stop- 
ped before  the  crucifix  and  began  to  groan  and 
weep.  The  servant  ran  up  stairs.  "  Take  this 
rusty  sword,"  he  said ;  "  clean  it  well,  and  do 
not  disturb  me."  She  had  scarcely  left  the 
room  when  he  fastened  the  rope  to  a  beam 
and  hanged  himself. 

The  maid,  hearing  no  sound,  again  grew 
alarmed,  went  up  to  the  garret,  and,  seeing 
her  master  hanging,  was  struck  with  terror. 
She  ran  crying  to  the  church  to  fetch  her 
mistress  home,  but  it  was  too  late :  the  wretch- 
ed man  could  not  be  recalled  to  life. 


yOH^   FRYTH.  IO9 

XIX. 
JOHN  FRYTH, 

A.  D.  1532. 

One  of  the  leading  scholars  of  England  was 
about  to  seal  the  testimony  of  his  faith  with 
blood.  John  Fryth  had  been  one  of  the  most 
brilliant  stars  of  the  University  of  Cambridge. 
"  It  would  hardly  be  possible  to  find  his  equal 
In  learning,"  said  many.  Accordingly,  Wolsey 
had  invited  him  to  his  college  at  Oxford,  and 
Henry  VIII.  had  desired  to  place  him  among 
the  number  of  his  theologians.  But  the  mys- 
teries of  the  word  of  God  had  more  attraction 
for  Fryth  than  those  of  science :  the  wants  of 
conscience  prevailed  in  him  over  those  of  the 
intellect,  and,  neglecting  his  own  glory,  he 
sought  only  to  be  useful  to  mankind.  A  sin- 
cere, decided,  yet  moderate  Christian,  preach- 
ing the  gospel  with  great  purity  and  love,  this 
man  of  thirity  seemed  destined  to  become 
one  of  the  most  influential  Reformers  of  Eng- 
land. Nothing  could  have  prevented  his  play- 
ing the  formost  part  if  he  had  had  Luther's  en- 
thusiastic energy  or  Calvin's  indomitable  pow- 
er. There  were  less  strong  but  perhaps  more 
amiable  features  in  his  character ;  he  taught 
with  gentleness  those  who  were  opposed  to 
the  truth,  and  while  many,  as  Fox  says,  "  take 


no  MARTYRS    OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

the  bellows  in  hand  to  blow  the  fire,  but  few 
there  are  that  will  seek  to  quench  it."  Fryth 
sought  after  peace.  Controversies  between 
Protestants  distressed  him.  "  The  opinions 
for  which  men  go  to  war,"  he  said,  "  do  not 
deserve  those  great  tragedies  of  which  they 
make  us  spectators.  Let  there  be  no  longer 
any  question  among  us  of  Zwinglians  or  Lu- 
therans, for  neither  Zwingle  nor  Luther  died 
for  us,  and  we  must  be  one  in  Christ  Jesus." 
This  servant  of  Christ,  meek  and  lowly  of 
heart  like  his  Master,  never  disputed  even 
with  papists,  unless  obliged  to  do  so. 

A  true  Catholicism  which  embraced  all  Chris- 
tians was  Fryth's  distinctive  feature  as  a  Re- 
former. He  was  not  one  of  those  who  imagine 
that  a  national  Church  ought  to  think  only  of 
its  own  nation,  but  of  those  who  believe  that 
if  a  Church  is  the  depositary  of  the  truth,  she 
is  so  for  all  the  earth,  and  that  a  religion  is 
not  good  if  it  has  no  longing  to  extend  itself 
to  all  the  races  of  mankind.  There  were 
some  strongly-marked  national  elements  in  the 
English  Reformation — the  king  and  the  Parlia- 
ment ;  but  there  was  also  a  universal  element — 
a  lively  faith  in  the  Saviour. of  the  w^orld.  No 
one  in  the  sixteenth  century  represented  this 
truly  catholic  element  better  than  Fryth.  "  I 
understand  the  Church  of  God  in  a  wide  sense," 
he  said.     ''  It  contains  all  those  whom  we  re- 


JOHN  FRYTH.  Ill 

gard  as  members  of  Christ.  It  is  a  net  thrown 
into  the  sea."  This  principle,  sown  at  that  time 
as  a  seed  in  the  EngHsh  Reformation,  was  one 
day  to  cover  the  world  with  missionaries. 

Fryth,  having  declined  the  brilliant  offers  the 
king  had  made  to  him  through  Cromwell  and 
Vaughan,  joined  Tyndale  in  translating  and 
publishing  the  Holy  Scriptures  in  English. 
While  laboring  thus  for  England  an  irresist- 
ible desire  came  over  him  to  circulate  the 
gospel  there  in  person.  He  therefore  quitted 
the  Low  Countries,  returned  to  London  and 
directed  his  course  to  Reading,  where  the  prior 
had  been  his  friend.  Exile  had  not  used  him 
well,  and  he  entered  that  town  miserably  clothed 
and  more  like  a  beggar  than  one  whom  Henry 
VIII.  had  desired  to  place  near  him.  This  was 
in  August,  1532. 

His  writings  had  preceded  him.  Having  re- 
ceived, when  in  the  Netherlands,  three  works 
composed  in  defence  of  purgatory  by  three  dis- 
tinguished men — Rastell,  Sir  Thomas  More's 
brother-in-law.  More  himself,  and  Fisher,  bish- 
op of  Rochester — Fryth  had  replied  to  them, 
"A  purgatory!  There  is  not  ^;2^  only ;  there 
are  two.  The  first  is  the  word  of  God,  the  sec- 
ond is  the  cross  of  Christ:  I  do  not  mean  the 
cross  of  wood,  but  the  cross  of  tribulation. 
But  the  lives  of  the  papists  are  so  wicked  that 
they  have  invented  a  third." 


112  MARTYRS   OF   THE    REFORMATION. 

Sir  Thomas,  exasperated  by  Fryth's  reply, 
said,  with  that  humorous  tone  he  often  affect- 
ed, "  I  propose  to  answer  the  good  young-  Fa- 
ther Fryth,  whose  wisdom  is  such  that  three 
old  men  like  my  brother  Rastell,  the  bishop  of 
Rochester  and  myself  are  mere  babies  when 
confronted  with  Father  Fryth  alone."  The  ex- 
ile having  returned  to  England,  More  had  now 
the  opportunity  of  avenging  himself  more  effect- 
ually than  by  his  jokes. 

Fryth,  as  we  have  said,  had  entered  Read- 
ing. His  strange  air  and  his  look  as  of  a  for- 
eigner arriving  from  a  distant  country  attracted 
attention,  and  he  was  taken  up  for  a  vagabond. 
''  Who  are  you  ?"  asked  the  magistrate.  Fryth, 
suspecting  that  he  was  in  the  hands  of  enemies 
of  the  gospel,  refused  to  give  his  name,  which 
increased  the  suspicion,  and  the  poor  young 
man  was  set  in  the  stocks.  As  they  gave  him 
but  little  to  eat,  with  the  intent  of  forcing  him 
to  tell  his  name,  his  hunger  soon  became  in- 
supportable. Knowing  the  name  of  the  mas- 
ter of  the  grammar-school,  he  asked  to  speak 
with  him.  Leonard  Coxe  had  scarcely  entered 
the  prison  when  the  pretended  vagabond,  all  in 
rags,  addressed  him  in  correct  Latin  and  be- 
gan to  deplore  his  miserable  captivity.  Never 
had  words  more  noble  been  uttered  in  a  dun- 
geon so  vile.  The  head-master,  astonished  at 
so  much  eloquence,  compassionately  drew  near 


JOHN  FR  YTH.  1 1  3 

the  unhappy  man  and  inquired  how  It  came  to 
pass  that  such  a  learned  scholar  was  In  such 
profound  wretchedness.  Presently  he  sat  down, 
and  the  two  men  began  to  talk  In  Greek  about 
the  universities  and  languages.  Coxe  could 
not  make  It  out:  it  was  no  longer  simple  pity 
that  he  felt,  but  love,  which  turned  to  admira- 
tion when  he  heard  the  prisoner  recite  with  the 
purest  accent  those  noble  lines  of  the  Iliad 
which  were  so  applicable  to  his  own  case : 

"  Sing,  O  Muse, 
The  vengeance  deep  and  deadly ;  whence  to  Greece 
Unnumbered  ills  arose;  which  many  a  soul 
Of  mighty  warriors  to  the  viewless  shades 
Untimely  sent." 

Filled  with  respect,  Coxe  hurried  off  to  the 
mayor,  complained  bitterly  of  the  wrong  done 
to  so  remarkable  a  man,  and  obtained  his  lib- 
eration. Homer  thus  saved  the  life  of  a  Re- 
former. 

Fryth  departed  for  London,  and  hastened  to 
join  the  worshipers  who  were  accustomed  to 
meet  in  Bow  Lane.  He  conversed  with  them, 
and  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  what  consolation  to  see 
such  a  great  number  of  believers  walking  In 
the  way  of  the  Lord  !"  These  Christians  ask- 
ed him  to  expound  the  Scriptures  to  them,  and, 
delighted  with  his  exhortations,  they  exclaimed 
in  their  turn,  "  If  the  rule  of  St.  Paul  were  follow- 
ed, this  man  would  certainly  make  a  better  bish- 


114  iMARTYRS    OF    THE    REFORMATION. 

op  than  many  of  those  who  wear  the  mitre.'* 
Instead  of  the  crosier  he  was  to  bear  the  cross. 

One  of  those  who  Hstened  was  in  great  doubt 
relative  to  the  doctrine  of  the  Lord's  Supper, 
and  one  day,  after  Fryth  had  been  setting  Christ 
before  them  as  the  food  of  the  Christian  soul 
through  faith,  this  person  followed  him  and  said, 
"Our  prelates  think  differently;  they  believe 
that  the  bread,  transformed  by  consecration, 
becomes  the  flesh,  blood  and  bones  of  Christ 
—that  even  the  wicked  eat  this  flesh  with  their 
teeth,  and  that  we  must  adore  the  Host.  What 
you  have  just  said  refutes  their  errors,  but  I 
fear  that  I  cannot  remember  it.  Pray  commit 
it  to  writing."  Fryth,  who  did  not  like  discus- 
sions, was  alarmed  at  the  request,  and  answer- 
ed, "  I  do  not  care  to  touch  that  terrible  trag- 
edy ;"  for  so  he  called  the  dispute  about  the 
Eucharist.  The  man  having  repeated  his  re- 
quest, and  promised  that  he  would  not  commu- 
nicate the  paper  to  anybody,  Fryth  wrote  an 
explanation  of  the  doctrine  of  the  sacrament 
and  gave  it  the  London  Christian,  saying,  "  We 
must  eat  and  drink  the  body  and  blood  of 
Christ,  not  with  the  teeth,  but  with  the  hearing 
and  through  faith."  The  brother  took  the  trea- 
tise, and,  hurrying  home  with  it,  read  it  care- 
fully. 

In  a  short  time  every  one  at  the  Bow  Lane 
meeting  spoke  about  this  writing.     One  man, 


JOHN  FR  YTH.  1 1  5 

a  false  brother,  named  William  Holt,  listened 
attentively  to  what  was  said,  and  thought  he 
had  found  an  opportunity  of  destroying  Fryth. 
Assuming  a  hypocritical  look,  he  spoke  in  a  pi- 
ous strain  to  the  individual  who  had  the  man- 
uscript, as  if  he  had  desired  to  enlighten  his 
faith,  and  finally  asked  him  for  it.  Having  ob- 
tained it,  he  hastened  to  make  a  copy,  which  he 
carried  to  Sir  Thomas  More,  who  was  still  chan- 
cellor. 

Fryth  soon  perceived  that  he  had  tried  in  vain 
to  remain  unknown ;  he  called  with  so  much  pow- 
er those  who  thirsted  for  righteousness  to  come 
to  Christ  for  the  waters  of  life  that  friends  and 
enemies  were  struck  with  his  eloquence.  Ob- 
serving that  his  name  began  to  be  talked  of  in 
various  places,  he  quitted  the  capital  and  trav- 
eled unnoticed  through  several  counties,  where 
he  found  some  little  Christian  congregations 
whom  he  tried  to  strengthen  in  the  faith. 

Tyndale,  who  remained  on  the  Continent, 
having  heard  of  Fryth's  labors,  began  to  feel 
great  anxiety  about  him.  He  knew  but  too 
well  the  cruel  disposition  of  the  bishops  and 
of  More.  "  I  will  make  the  serpent  come  out 
of  his  dark  den,"  Sir  Thomas  had  said,  speak- 
ing of  Tyndale,  "  as  Hercules  forced  Cerberus, 
the  watch-dog  of  hell,  to  come  out  to  the  light 
of  day.  I  will  not  leave  Tyndale  the  darkest 
corner  in  which  to   hide  his   head."     In  Tyn- 


Il6  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

dale's  eyes  Fryth  was  the  great  hope  of  the 
Church  of  England ;  he  trembled  lest  the  re- 
doubtable Hercules  should  seize  him.  '*  Dear- 
ly beloved  brother  Jacob,"  he  wrote — calling 
him  Jacob  to  mislead  his  enemies — ''  be  cold, 
sober,  wise  and  circumspect,  and  keep  you  low 
by  the  ground,  avoiding  high  questions  that 
pass  the  common  capacity.  But  expound  the 
law  truly,  and  open  the  veil  of  Moses  to  con- 
demn all  flesh  and  prove  all  men  sinners.  Then 
set  abroach  the  mercy  of  our  Lord  Jesus,  and 
let  the  wounded  consciences  drink  of  him.  .  .  . 
All  doctrine  that  casteth  a  mist  on  these  two  to 
shadow  and  hide  them  resist  with  all  your  pow- 
er. .  .  .  Beloved  in  my  heart,  there  liveth  not 
one  in  whom  I  have  so  great  hope  and  trust, 
and  in  whom  my  heart  rejoiceth ;  and  not  so 
much  for  your  learning  and  what  other  gifts 
else  you  may  have,  as  because  you  walk  in 
those  things  that  the  conscience  may  feel,  and 
not  in  the  imagination  of  the  brain.  Cleave 
fast  to  the  rock  of  the  help  of  God ;  and  if 
aught  be  required  of  you  contrary  to  the  glory 
of  God  and  his  Christ,  then  stand  fast  and  com- 
mit yourself  to  God,  He  is  our  God,  and  our 
redemption  is  nigh." 

Tyndale's  fears  were  too  well  founded.  Sir 
Thomas  More  held  Fryth's  new  treatise  in  his 
hand ;  he  read  it,  and  gave  way  by  turns  to 
anger  and  sarcasm.     *'  Whetting  his  wits,  call- 


JOHN  FKYTH.  II7 

ing  his  spirits  together  and  sharpening  his 
pen,"  to  use  the  words  of  the  chronicler,  he 
answered  Fryth,  and  described  his  doctrine 
under  the  image  of  a  cancer.  This  did  not 
satisfy  him.  Although  he  had  returned  the 
seals  to  the  king  in  May,  he  continued  to  hold 
office  until  the  end  of  the  year.  He  ordered 
search  to  be  made  for  Fryth,  and  set  all  his 
bloodhounds  on  the  track.  If  the  Reformer 
was  discovered  he  was  lost ;  when  Sir  Thomas 
More  had  once  caught  his  man,  nothing  could 
save  him — nothing  but  a  merry  jest  perhaps. 
For  instance :  one  day  when  he  was  examining 
a  gospeler  named  Silver,  "  You  know,"  he  said 
with  a  smile,  "  that  silver  must  be  tried  in  the 
fire." — "  Yes,"  retorted  the  accused  instantly, 
"  but  not  quicksilver."  More,  delighted  with 
the  repartee,  set  the  poor  wretch  at  liberty. 
But  Fryth  was  no  jester:  he  could  not  hope, 
therefore,  to  find  favor  with  the  ex-chancellor 
of  Eneland. 

Sir  Thomas  hunted  the  Reformer  by  sea  and 
by  land,  promising  a  great  reward  to  any  one 
who  should  deliver  him  up.  There  was  no 
county  or  town  or  village  where  More  did  not 
look  for  him,  no  sheriff  or  justice  of  the  peace 
to  whom  he  did  not  apply,  no  harbor  where  he 
did  not  post  some  officer  to  catch  him.  But 
the  answer  from  every  quarter  was,  "  He  is  not 
here."     Indeed,    Fryth,   having    been    informed 


Il8         MARTYRS  OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

of  the  great  exertions  of  his  enemy,  was  flee- 
ing from  place  to  place,  often  changing  his 
dress,  and  finding  safety  nowhere.  Determin- 
ing to  leave  England  and  return  to  Tyndale,  he 
went  to  Milton  Shone  in  Essex  with  the  inten- 
tion of  embarking.  A  ship  was  ready  to  sail, 
and,  quitting  his  hiding-place,  he  went  down  to 
the  shore  with  all  precaution.  He  had  been 
betrayed.  More's  agents,  who  were  on  the 
watch,  seized  him  as  he  was  stepping  on  board 
and  carried  him  to  the  Tower.  This  occurred 
in  October,   1532. 

The  news  soon  spread  through  London  that 
Fryth  was  In  the  Tower,  and  several  priests  and 
bishops  Immediately  went  thither  to  try  to  bring 
him  back  to  the  pope.  Their  great  argument 
was  that  More  had  confuted  his  treatise  on  the 
Lord's  Supper.  Fryth  asked  to  see  the  confu- 
tation, but  It  was  refused  him.  One  day,  the 
bishop  of  Winchester,  having  called  up  the 
prisoner,  showed  It  to  Fryth,  and,  holding  It 
up,  asserted  that  the  book  quite  shut  his  mouth. 
Fryth  stretched  out  his  hand,  but  the  bishop  has- 
tily withdrew  the  volume.  More  himself  was 
ashamed  of  the  apology,  and  did  all  he  could 
to  prevent  its  circulation.  Fryth  could  only  ob- 
tain a  written  copy,  but  he  resolved  to  answer 
it  immediately.  There  was  no  one  with  whom 
he  could  confer,  not  a  book  he  could  consult, 
and  the  chains  with  which  he  was  loaded  scarce- 


JOHN  FRYTH,  I IQ 

ly  allowed  him  to  sit  and  write.  But  reading  in 
his  dungeon  by  the  light  of  a  small  candle  the 
insults  of  More,  and  finding  himself  charged 
with  having  collected  all  the  poison  that  could 
be  found  in  the  writings  of  Wickliffe,  Luther, 
CEcolampadius,  Tyndale  and  Zwingle,  this  hum- 
ble servant  of  God  exclaimed,  "  No !  Luther 
and  his  doctrine  are  not  the  mark  I  aim  at,  but 
the  Scriptures  of  God." — "  He  shall  pay  for  his 
heresy  with  the  best  blood  in  his  body,"  said  his 
enemies ;  and  the  pious  disciple  replied,  "As  the 
sheep  bound  by  the  hand  of  the  butcher  with 
timid  look  beseeches  that  his  blood  may  soon 
be  shed,  even  so  do  I  pray  my  judges  that  my 
blood  may  be  shed  to-morroiu  if  by  my  death 
the  king's  eyes  should  be  opened." 

Before  he  died  Fryth  desired  to  save,  if  it 
were  God's  will,  one  of  his  adversaries.  There 
was  one  of  them  who  had  no  obstinacy,  no  mal- 
ice; it  was  Rastell,  More's  brother-in-law.  Being 
unable  to  speak  to  him  or  to  any  of  the  enemies 
of  the  Reformation,  he  formed  the  design  of 
writing  in  prison  a  treatise  which  should  be 
called  The  Bulwark.  But  strict  orders  had  re- 
cently arrived  that  he  should  have  neither  pen, 
ink  nor  paper.  Some  evangelical  Christians  of 
London,  who  succeeded  in  getting  access  to 
him,  secretly  furnished  him  with  the  means  of 
writing,  and  Fryth  began.  He  wrote,  but  at 
every  moment  he  listened  for  fear  the  lieuten- 


I20  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

ant  of  the  Tower  or  the  warders  should  come 
upon  him  suddenly  and  find  the  pen  In  his 
hand.     Often  a  briofht  thought  would  occur  to 

o  o 

him,  but  some  sudden  alarm  drove  It  out  of  his 
mind,  and  he  could  not  recall  It.  He  took  cour- 
age, however ;  he  had  been  accused  of  assert- 
ing that  good  works  were  of  no  service ;  he 
proceeded  to  explain  with  much  eloquence  all 
their  utility,  and  every  time  he  repeated,  ''  Is 
that  nothing?  is  that  still  nothing?  Truly, 
Rastell,"  he  added,  "  if  you  only  regard  that 
as  useful  which  justifies  us,  the  sun  is  not  use- 
ful, because  it  justifieth  not." 

As  he  was  finishinor  these  words  he  heard 
the  keys  rattling  at  the  door,  and,  being  alarm- 
ed, immediately  threw  paper.  Ink  and  pen  into 
a  hiding-place.  However,  he  was  able  to  com- 
plete the  treatise  and  sent  It  to  Rastell.  More's 
brother-in-law  read  it ;  his  heart  was  touched, 
his  understanding  enlightened,  his  prejudices 
cleared  away,  and  from  that  hour  this  choice 
spirit  was  gained  over  to  the  gospel  of  Christ. 
God  had  given  him  new  eyes  and  new  ears. 
A  pure  joy  filled  the  prisoner's  heart.  "  Ras- 
tell now  looks  upon  his  natural  reason  as  fool- 
ishness," he  said.  "  Rastell,  become  a  child, 
drinks  the  wisdom  that  cometh  from  on  high." 

The  conversion  of  Sir  Thomas  More's  broth- 
er-in-law made  a  great  sensation,  and  the  visits 
to  Fryth's  cell  became  every  day  more  numer- 


JOHN  FRYTH.  121 

ous.  Although  separated  from  his  wife  and 
from  Tyndale,  whom  he  had  been  forced  to 
leave  in  the  Low  Countries,  he  had  never  had 
so  many  friends,  brothers,  mothers  and  fathers ; 
he  wept  for  very  joy.  He  took  his  pen  and 
paper  from  their  hiding-place,  and,  always  in- 
defatigable, began  to  write  first  The  Looking- 
glass  of  Self-knowledge,  and  next  a  Letter  to 
the  Faithful  Followers  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ. 
"Imitators  of  the  Lord,"  he  said  to  them,  "  mark 
yourselves  with  the  sign  of  the  cross,  not  as  the 
superstitious  crowd  does,  in  order  to  worship  it, 
but  as  a  testimony  that  you  are  ready  to  bear 
that  cross  as  soon  as  God  shall  please  to  send 
it.  Fear  not  when  you  have  it,  for  you  will 
also  have  a  hundred  fathers  instead  of  one, 
a  hundred  mothers  instead  of  one,  a  hundred 
mansions  already  in  this  life  (for  I  have  made 
the  trial),  and  after  this  life  joy  everlasting." 
At  the  beginning  of  1533,  Anne  Boleyn 
having  been  married  to  the  king  of  England, 
Fryth  saw  his  chains  fall  off:  he  was  allowed 
to  have  all  he  asked  for,  and  even  permitted 
to  leave  the  Tower  at  night  on  parole.  He 
took  advantage  of  this  liberty  to  visit  the 
friends  of  the  gospel  and  consult  with  them 
about  what  was  to  be  done.  One  evening 
in  particular,  after  leaving  the  Tower,  Fryth 
went  to  Petit's  house,  anxious  to  embrace  once 
more  that  great  friend  of  the  Reformation,  that 


122  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

firm  member  of  Parliament,  who  had  been 
thrown  into  prison,  as  we  have  seen,  and  at 
last  set  free.  Petit,  w^eakened  by  his  long- 
confinement,  was  near  his  end  ;  the  persecu- 
tion agitated  and  pained  him,  and  it  would 
appear  that  his  emotion  sometimes  ended  in 
delirium.  As  he  was  groaning  over  the  cap- 
tivity of  the  young  and  noble  Reformer,  Fryth 
appeared.  Petit  was  confused,  his  mind  wan- 
dered. Is  it  Fryth  or  his  ghost?  He  was 
like  the  apostles  when  Rhoda  came  to  tell 
them  that  Peter  was  at  the  gate  waiting  to 
see  them.  But  gradually  recovering  himself, 
Petit  said,  "  You  here  ?  How  have  you  escap- 
ed the  vigilance  of  the  warders  ?" — "  God  him- 
self," answered  Fryth,  "gave  me  this  liberty 
by  touching  their  hearts."  The  two  friends 
then  conversed  about  the  true  reformation  of 
England,  which  in  their  eyes  had  nothing  to 
do  with  the  diplomatic  proceedings  of  the  king. 
In  their  opinion  it  was  not  a  matter  of  over- 
loading the  external  Church  with  new  frippery, 
but  *'  to  increase  that  elect,  sanctified  and  in- 
visible congregation,  elect  before  the  founda- 
tion of  the  world."  Fryth  did  not  conceal 
from  Petit  the  conviction  he  felt  that  he  would 
be  called  upon  to  die  for  the  gospel.  The 
night  was  spent  in  such  Christian  conversa- 
tion, and  the  day  began  to  dawn  before  the 
prisoner  hastened  to  return  to  the  Tower. 


JOHN  FRYTH.  1 23 

The  evanorelist's  friends  did  not  think  as  he 
did.  Anne  Boleyn's  accession  seemed  as  if 
it  ought  to  open  the  doors  of  Fryth's  prison, 
and  in  imagination  they  saw  him  at  Hberty 
and  laboring  either  on  the  Continent  or  at 
home  at  that  real  reformation  which  is  accom- 
plished by  the  Scriptures  of  God. 

But  it  was  not  to  be  so.  Most  of  the  evan- 
gelical men  raised  up  by  God  in  England  dur- 
ing the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.  found — not  the 
influence  which  they  should  have  exercised, 
but — death.  Yet  their  blood  has  weighed  in 
the  divine  balance ;  it  has  sanctified  the  Ref- 
ormation of  England,  and  been  a  spiritual  seed 
for  future  ages.  If  the  Church  of  that  rich 
country,  which  possesses  such  worldly  splen- 
dor, has  nevertheless  witnessed  the  develop- 
ment of  a  powerful  evangelical  life  in  its  bosom, 
it  must  not  forget  the  cause,  but  understand, 
with  Tertullian,  that  the  blood  of  the  martyrs  is 
the  seed  of  the   Church. 

The  enemy  was  on  the  watch :  the  second 
period  of  Fryth's  captivity,  that  which  was  to 
terminate  in  martyrdom,  was  beginning.  Hen- 
ry's bishops,  who,  while  casting  off  the  pope  to 
please  the  king,  had  remained  devoted  to  scho- 
lastic doctrines,  feared  lest  the  Reformer  should 
escape  them :  they  therefore  undertook  to  so- 
licit Henry  to  put  him  to  death.  Fryth  had  on 
his   side   the   queen,   Cromwell    and    Cranmer. 


124  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

This  did  not  discourage  them,  and  they  repre- 
sented to  the  king  that  although  the  man  was 
shut  up  in  the  Tower  of  London,  he  did  not 
cease  to  write  and  act  in  defence  of  heresy. 
It  was  the  season  of  Lent,  and  Fryth's  enemies 
came  to  an  understanding  with  Dr.  Curwin,  the 
king's  chaplain,  who  was  to  preach  before  the 
court.  He  had  no  sooner  got  into  the  pulpit 
than  he  began  to  declaim  against  those  who 
denied  the  material  presence  of  Christ  in  the 
Host.  Having  struck  his  hearers  with  horror, 
he  continued,  "It  is  not  surprising  that  this 
abominable  heresy  makes  such  great  progress 
amone  us.  A  man  now  in  the  Tower  of  Lon- 
don  has  the  audacity  to  defend  it,  and  no  one 
thinks  of  punishing  him." 

When  the  service  was  over  the  brilliant  con- 
gregation left  the  chapel,  and  each  as  he  went 
out  asked  what  was  the  man's  name.  ''  Fryth," 
was  the  reply,  and  loud  were  the  exclamations 
on  hearine  it.     The  blow  took  effect ;  the  scho- 

o 

lastic  prejudices  of  the  king  were  revived,  and 
he  sent  for  Cromwell  and  Cranmer.  "  I  am 
very  much  surprised,"  he  said,  "  that  John  Fryth 
has  been  kept  so  long  in  the  Tower  without  ex- 
amination. I  desire  his  trial  to  take  place  with- 
out delay ;  and  if  he  does  not  retract,  let  him 
suffer  the  penalty  he  deserves."  He  then  nom- 
inated six  of  the  chief  spiritual  and  temporal 
peers  of  England  to  examine  him :  they  were 


JOHN  FRYTH.  I25 

the  archbishop  of  Canterbury,  the  bishops  of 
London  and  Winchester,  the  lord  chancellor, 
the  duke  of  Suffolk  and  the  earl  of  Wiltshire. 
This  demonstrated  the  importance  which  Hen- 
ry attached  to  the  affair.  Until  now  all  the 
martyrs  had  fallen  beneath  the  blows  either 
of  the  bishops  or  of  More,  but  in  this  case  it 
was  the  king  himself  who  stretched  out  his 
strong  hand  against  the  servant  of  God. 

Henry's  order  plunged  Cranmer  into  the  cru- 
elest  anxiety.  On  the  one  hand,  Fryth  was  in 
his  eyes  a  disciple  of  the  gospel,  but,  on  the 
other,  he  attacked  a  doctrine  which  the  arch- 
bishop then  held  to  be  Christian  ;  for,  like  Lu- 
ther and  Osiander,  he  still  believed  in  consub- 
stantiation.  "  Alas  !"  he  wrote  to  Archdeacon 
Hawkins,  "  he  professes  the  doctrine  of  CEco- 
lampadius."  He  resolved,  however,  to  do 
everything  in  his  power  to  save  Fryth. 

The  best  friends  of  the  young  Reformer  saw 
that  a  pile  was  being  raised  to  consume  the 
most  faithful  Christian  in  England.  "  Dearly 
beloved,"  wrote  Tyndale  from  Antwerp,  "  fear 
not  men  that  threat,  nor  trust  men  that  speak 
fair.  Your  cause  is  Christ's  gospel,  a  light  that 
must  be  fed  with  the  blood  of  faith.  The  lamp 
must  be  trimmed  daily,  that  the  light  go  not 
out."  There  was  no  lack  of  examples  to  con- 
firm these  words  :  "  Two  have  suffered  in  Ant- 
werp unto  the  great  glory  of  the  gospel;  four 


126  MARTYRS   OF   THE    REFORMATION. 

at  Ryselles  In  Flanders.  At  Rouen  in  France 
they  persecute,  and  at  Paris  are  five  doctors 
taken  for  the  gospel.  See,  you  are  not  alone  : 
follow  the  example  of  all  your  other  dear  breth- 
ren, who  choose  to  suffer  in  hope  of  a  better 
resurrection.  Bear  the  image  of  Christ  in  your 
mortal  body,  and  keep  your  conscience  pure 
and  undefiled.  .  .  .  Una  salus  victis,  mdlam 
sperare  salutem — the  only  safety  of  the  con- 
quered is  to  look  for  none.  If  you  could  but 
write  and  tell  us  how  you  are !"  In  this  letter 
from  a  martyr  to  a  martyr  there  was  one  sen- 
tence honorable  to  a  Christian  woman  :  "  Your 
wife  is  well  content  with  the  will  of  God,  and 
would  not  for  her  sake  have  the  glory  of  God 
hindered." 

If  friends  were  thinking  of  Fryth  on  the  banks 
of  the  Scheldt,  they  were  equally  anxious  about 
him  on  the  banks  of  the  Thames.  Worthy  cit- 
izens of  London  asked  what  was  the  use  of 
England's  quitting  the  pope  to  cling  to  Christ 
if  she  burnt  the  servants  of  Christ?  The  little 
Church  had  recourse  to  prayer.  Archbishop 
Cranmer  wished  to  save  Fryth :  he  loved  the 
man  and  admired  his  piety.  If  the  accused 
appeared  before  the  commission  appointed 
by  the  king,  he  was  lost:  some  means  must 
be  devised  without  delay  to  rescue  him  from 
an  inevitable  death.  The  archbishop  declared 
that,  before  proceeding  to  trial,  he  wished  to 


JOHN  FRYTH.  12/ 

have  a  conference  with  the  prisoner  and  to  en- 
deavor to  convince  him ;  which  was  very  nat- 
ural. But  at  the  same  the  primate  appeared 
to  fear  that  if  the  conference  took  place  in 
London  the  people  would  disturb  the  public 
peace,  as  in  the  time  of  Wickliffe.  He  settled, 
therefore,  that  it  should  be  held  at  Croydon, 
where  he  had  a  palace.  The  primate's  fear 
seems  rather  strange.  A  riot  on  account  of 
Fryth  at  a  time  when  king,  commons  and  peo- 
ple were  in  harmony  appeared  hardly  probable. 
Cranmer  had  another  motive. 

Among  the  persons  composing  his  household 
was  a  gentleman  of  benevolent  character  and 
with  a  leaning  toward  the  gospel,  who  was  dis- 
tressed at  the  cruelty  of  the  bishops,  and  look- 
ed upon  it  as  a  lawful  and  Christian  act  to  rob 
them,  if  possible,  of  their  victims.  Giving  him 
one  of  the  porters  of  Lambeth  Palace  as  a  com- 
panion, Cranmer  committed  Fryth  to  his  care 
to  bring  him  to  Croydon.  They  were  to  take 
the  prisoner  a  journey  of  four  or  five  hours 
on  foot  through  fields  and  woods,  without  any 
constables  or  soldiers.  A  strange  walk  and  a 
strange  escort ! 

Lord  Fitzwilliam,  first  earl  of  Southampton 
and  governor  of  the  Tower,  at  that  time  lay  sick 
in  his  house  at  Westminster,  suffering  such  se- 
vere pain  as  to  force  loud  groans  from  him. 
On  the  loth  of  June,  at  the  desire  of  my  lord 


128  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

of  Canterbury,  the  archbishop's  gentleman  and 
the  Lambeth  porter,  Gallois,  surnamed  Perle- 
beane,  were  introduced  into  the  nobleman's 
bedchamber,  where  they  found  him  lying  upon 
his  bed  in  extreme  agony.  Fitzwilliam,  a  man 
of  the  world,  was  greatly  enraged  against  the 
evangelicals,  who  were  the  cause,  in  his  opin- 
ion, of  all  the  difficulties  of  England.  The 
gentleman  respectfully  presented  to  him  the 
primate's  letter  and  the  king's  ring.  ''What 
do  you  want?"  he  asked  sharply,  without  open- 
ing the  letter. — ''  His  Grace  desires  your  lord- 
ship to  deliver  Master  Fryth  to  us."  The  im- 
patient Southampton  flew  into  a  passion  at  the 
name,  and  cursed  Fryth  and  all  the  heretics. 
He  thought  it  strange  that  a  gentleman  and  a 
porter  should  have  to  convey  a  prisoner  of  such 
importance  to  the  episcopal  court :  were  there 
no  soldiers  in  the  Tower?  Had  Fitzwilliam 
any  suspicion,  or  did  he  regret  to  see  the  Re- 
former leave  the  walls  within  which  he  had  been 
kept  so  safely?  We  cannot  tell;  but  he  must 
obey,  for  they  brought  him  the  king's  signet. 
Accordingly,  taking  his  own  hastily  from  his 
finger,  "Fryth?"  he  said,  "Fryth?  .  .  .  Here, 
show  this  to  the  lieutenant  of  the  Tower,  and 
take  away  your  heretic  quickly.  I  am  but  too 
happy  to  get  rid  of  him." 

A  few  hours  later,  Fryth,  the  gentleman  and 
Perlebeane    entered  a  boat   moored   near  the 


JOHN  FRYTH,  1 29 

Tower,  and  were  rowed  speedily  to  the  arch- 
bishop's palace  at  Lambeth.  At  first  the  three 
persons  preserved  a  strict  silence,  only  inter- 
rupted from  time  to  time  by  the  deep  sighs  of 
the  gentleman.  Being  charged  to  begin  by  try- 
ing to  induce  Fryth  to  make  some  compromise, 
he  broke  the  silence  at  last.  "  Master  Fryth," 
he  said,  "  if  you  are  not  prudent  you  are  lost. 
What  a  pity !  You  that  are  so  learned  in  Latin 
and  Greek  and  in  the  Holy  Scriptures,  the  an- 
cient doctors  and  all  kinds  of  knowledge, — you 
will  perish,  and  all  your  admirable  gifts  will  per- 
ish with  you,  with  little  profit  to  the  world,  and 
less  comfort  to  your  wife  and  children,  your 
kinsfolk  and  friends."  The  gentleman  was  silent 
a  minute,  and  then  began  again  :  "  Your  position 
is  dangerous.  Master  Fryth,  but  not  desperate: 
you  have  many  friends  who  will  do  all  they  can 
in  your  favor.  On  your  part  do  something  for 
them :  make  some  concession,  and  you  will  be 
safe.  Your  opinion  on  the  merely  spiritual 
presence  of  the  body  and  blood  of  the  Saviour 
is  premature :  it  is  too  soon  for  us  in  England  ; 
wait  until  a  better  time  comes." 

Fryth  did  not  say  a  word:  no  sound  was 
heard  but  the  dash  of  the  water  and  the  noise 
of  the  oars.  The  gentleman  thought  he  had 
shaken  the  young  doctor,  and  after  a  moment's 
silence  he  resumed :  ''  My  lord  Cromwell  and 
my  lord  of  Canterbury  feel  great  affection  for 


I30  MARTYRS   OF   THE    REFORMATION. 

you :  they  know  that  if  you  are  young  In  years 
you  are  old  in  knowledge,  and  may  become  a 
most  profitable  citizen  of  this  realm.  ...  If 
you  will  be  somewhat  advised  by  their  counsel 
they  will  never  permit  you  to  be  harmed ;  but 
if  you  stand  stiff  to  your  opinion,  it  is  not  pos- 
sible to  save  your  life,  for  as  you  have  good 
friends,  so  have  you   mortal  enemies." 

The  gentleman  stopped  and  looked  at  the 
prisoner.  It  was  by  such  language  that  Bilney 
had  been  seduced,  but  Fryth  kept  himself  in  the 
presence  of  God,  ready  to  lose  his  life  that  he 
might  save  it.  He  thanked  the  gentleman  for 
his  kindness,  and  said  that  his  conscience  would 
not  permit  him  to  recede,  out  of  respect  to  man, 
from  the  true  doctrine  of  the  Lord's  Supper. 
"  If  I  am  questioned  on  that  point  I  must  answer 
according  to  my  conscience,  though  I  should  lose 
twenty  lives  if  I  had  so  many.  I  can  support  it 
by  a  great  number  of  passages  from  the  Holy 
Scriptures  and  the  ancient  doctors,  and,  if  I  am 
fairly  tried,  I  shall  have  nothing  to  fear." — 
"  Marry !"  quoth  the  gentleman,  "  if  you  were 
fairly  tried  you  would  be  safe ;  but  that  is  what 
I  very  much  doubt.  Our  Master  Christ  was 
not  fairly  tried,  nor  would  he  be,  as  I  think,  if 
he  were  now  present  again  in  the  world.  How, 
then,  should  you  be,  when  your  opinions  are  so 
little  understood  and  are  so  odious?" — "I 
know,"    answered     Fryth,    "  that    the    doctrine 


JOHN  FRYTH.  I3I 

which  I  hold  is  very  hard  meat  to  be  digested 
just  now ;  but  Hsten  to  me."  As  he  spoke  he 
took  the  gentleman  by  the  hand.  "  If  you  live 
twenty  years  more,  you  will  see  the  whole  realm 
of  my  opinion  concerning  this  sacrament  of  the 
altar — all  except  a  certain  class  of  men.  My 
death,  you  say,  would  be  sorrowful  to  my  friends, 
but  it  will  be  only  for  a  short  time.  But,  all 
things  considered,  my  death  will  be  better  unto 
me  and  all  mine  than  life  in  continual  bondage. 
God  knoweth  what  he  hath  to  do  with  his  poor 
servant,  whose  cause  I  now  defend.  He  will 
help  me,  and  no  man  shall  prevail  on  me  to 
step  backward." 

The  boat  reached  Lambeth.  The  travelers 
landed,  entered  the  archbishop's  palace,  and, 
after  taking  some  refreshment,  started  on  foot 
for  Croydon,  twelve  miles  from  London. 

The  three  travelers  proceeded  over  the  hills 
and  through  the  plains  of  Surrey.  Here  and 
there  flocks  of  sheep  were  grazing  in  the  scanty 
pastures,  and  to  the  east  stretched  vast  woods. 
The  gentlemen  walked  mournfully  by  the  side 
of  Fryth.  It  was  useless  to  ask  him  again 
to  retract ;  but  another  idea  engrossed  Cran- 
mer's  officer — that  of  letting  Fryth  escape. 
The  country  was  then  thinly  inhabited :  the 
woods  which  covered  it  on  the  east  and  the 
chalky  hills  might  serve  as  a  hiding-place  for 
the  fugitive.     The    difficulty  was    to    persuade 


132  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION, 

Perlebeane.  The  gentleman  slackened  his 
pace,  called  to  the  porter,  and  they  walked 
by  themselves  behind  the  prisoner.  When 
they  were  so  far  off  that  he  could  not  hear 
their  conversation  the  gentleman  said,  *' You 
have  heard  this  man,  I  am  sure,  and  noted 
his  talk  since  he  came  from  the  Tower  ?" — "  I 
never  heard  so  constant  a  man,"  Perlebeane 
answered,  ''nor  so  eloquent  a  person." — ''You 
have  heard  nothing,"  resumed  the  gentleman, 
"  in  respect  both  of  his  knowledge  and  his 
eloquence.  If  you  could  hear  him  at  the 
university  or  in  the  pulpit,  you  would  admire 
him  still  more.  England  has  never  had  such 
a  one  of  his  age  with  so  much  learning.  And 
yet  our  bishops  treat  him  as  if  he  were  a  very 
dolt  or  an  idiot !  They  abhor  him  as  the  devil 
himself,  and  want  to  get  rid  of  him  by  any 
means." — "  Marry  !"  said  the  porter,  "  if  there 
were  nothing  else  in  him  but  the  consideration 
of  his  person,  both  comely  and  amiable,  his 
disposition,  so  gentle,  meek  and  humble,  it 
were  pity  he  should  be  cast  away." — "  Cast 
away?"  interrupted  the  gentleman;  "he  will 
certainly  be  cast  away  if  we  once  bring  him 
to  Croydon."  And  lowering  his  voice,  he 
continued,  "  Surely,  before  God  I  speak  it,  if 
thou,  Perlebeane,  wert  of  my  mind,  we  should 
never  bring  him  thither." — "  What  do  you 
mean  ?"   asked   the    astonished    porter.     Then, 


JOHN  FRYTH.  1 33 

after  a  moment's  silence,  he  added,  "  I  know 
that  you  have  a  great  deal  more  responsibil- 
ity in  this  matter  than  I  have  ;  and  therefore, 
if  you  can  honestly  save  this  man,  I  will  yield 
to  your  proposal  with  all  my  heart."  The 
gentleman  breathed  again. 

Cranmer  had  desired  that  all  possible  efforts 
should  be  made  to  change  Fryth's  sentiments, 
and  these  failing  he  wished  to  save  him  in 
another  way.  It  was  his  desire  that  the  Re- 
former should  go  on  foot  to  Croydon — that 
he  should  be  accompanied  by  two  only  of  his 
servants,  selected  from  those  best  disposed 
toward  the  new  doctrine.  The  primate's  gen- 
tleman would  never  have  dared  to  take  upon 
himself,  except  by  his  master's  desire,  the  re- 
sponsibility of  conniving  at  the  escape  of  a 
prisoner  who  was  to  be  tried  by  the  first  per- 
sonages of  the  realm,  appointed  by  the  king 
himself  Happy  at  having  gained  the  porter 
to  his  enterprise,  he  began  to  discuss  with 
him  the  ways  and  means.  He  knew  the 
country  well,  and  his  plan  was  arranged. 

"  You  see  yonder  hill  before  us  ?"  he  said 
to  Perlebeane ;  "  it  is  Brixton  causeway,  two 
miles  from  London.  There  are  great  woods 
on  both  sides.  When  we  come  to  the  top 
we  will  permit  Fryth  to  escape  to  the  woods 
on  the  left  hand,  whence  he  may  easily  get 
into  Kent,  where  he  was    born  and  where  he 


134  MARTYRS   OF   THE    REFORMATION. 

has  many  friends.  We  will  linger  an  hour 
or  two  on  the  road  after  his  flight  to  eive  him 
time  to  reach  a  place  of  safety,  and  when 
night  approaches  we  will  go  to  Streatham, 
which  is  a  mile  and  a  half  off,  and  make  an 
outcry  in  the  town  that  our  prisoner  has  es- 
caped into  the  woods  on  the  right  hand  to- 
ward Wandsworth — that  we  followed  him  for 
more  than  a  mile,  and  at  length  lost  him  be- 
cause we  were  not  many  enough.  At  the 
same  time  we  will  take  with  us  as  many  peo- 
ple as  we  can  to  search  for  him  in  that  direc- 
tion ;  if  necessary,  we  will  be  all  night  about 
it ;  and  before  we  can  send  the  news  of  what 
has  happened  to  Croydon,  Fryth  will  be  in 
safety  and  the  bishops  will  be  disappointed." 

The  gentleman,  we  see,  was  not  very  scru- 
pulous about  the  means  of  rescuing  a  victim 
from  the  pov/er  of  the  Romish  priests.  Perle- 
beane  thought  as  he  did.  "  Your  plan  pleases 
me,"  he  answered ;  ''  now  go  and  tell  the  pris- 
oner, for  we  are  already  at  the  foot  of  the 
hill." 

The  deliorhted  orentleman  hurried  forward 
"  Master  Fryth,"  he  said,  "  let  us  talk  together 
a  little.  I  cannot  hide  from  you  that  the  task 
I  have  undertaken  to  bring  you  to  Croydon  as 
a  sheep  to  the  slaughter  grieves  me  exceeding- 
ly, and  there  is  no  danger  I  would  not  brave  to 
deliver  you  out  of  the  lion's  mouth.     Yonder 


JOHN  FRYTH.  1 35 

good  fellow  and  I  have  devised  a  plan  whereby 
you  may  escape.  Listen  to  me."  The  gentle- 
man having  described  his  plan,  Fryth  smiled 
amiably  and  said,  "  This,  then,  is  the  result  of 
your  long  consultation  together?  You  have 
wasted  your  time.  If  you  were  both  to  leave 
me  here  and  go  to  Croydon,  declaring  to  the 
bishops  you  had  lost  me,  I  should  follow  after 
as  fast  as  I  could,  and  bring  them  news  that  I 
had  found  and  brought  Fryth  again." 

The  gentleman  had  not  expected  such  an 
answer.  A  prisoner  refuse  his  liberty  !  "  You 
are  mad,"  he  said:  "do  you  think  your  reason- 
ing will  convert  the  bishops  ?  At  Milton  Shone 
you  tried  to  escape  beyond  the  sea,  and  now 
you  refuse  to  save  yourself!" — "The  two  cases 
are  different,"  answered  Fryth :  "  then  I  was 
at  liberty,  and,  according  to  the  advice  of  St. 
Paul,  I  would  fain  have  enjoyed  my  liberty  for 
the  continuance  of  my  studies.  But  now  the 
higher  power,  as  it  were  by  Almighty  God's 
permission,  has  seized  me,  and  my  conscience 
binds  me  to  defend  the  doctrine  for  which  I  am 
persecuted  if  I  would  not  incur  our  Lord's  con- 
demnation. If  I  should  now  run  away,  I  should 
run  from  my  God ;  if  I  should  fly,  I  should  fly 
from  the  testimony  I  am  bound  to  bear  to  his 
holy  word,  and  I  should  deserve  a  thousand 
hells.  I  most  heartily  thank  you  both  for  your 
good-will    toward    me ;    but   I   beseech   you    to 


136  MARTYRS  OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

bring  me  where  I  was  appointed  to  be  brought, 
for  else  I  will  go  thither  all  alone." 

Those  who  desired  to  save  Fryth  had  not 
counted  upon  so  much  integrity.  Such  were, 
however,  the  martyrs  of  Protestantism.  The 
archbishop's  two  servants  continued  their  route 
along  with  their  strange  prisoner.  Fryth  had  a 
calm  eye  and  cheerful  look,  and  the  rest  of  the 
journey  was  accomplished  in  pious  and  agree- 
able conversation.  When  they  reached  Croy- 
don he  was  delivered  to  the  officers  of  the  epis- 
copal court,  and  passed  the  night  in  the  lodge 
of  the  primate's  porter. 

The  next  morning  he  appeared  before  the 
bishops  and  peers  appointed  to  examine  him. 
Cranmer  and  Lord  Chancellor  Audley  desired 
his  acquittal,  but  some  of  the  other  judges  were 
men  without  pity.     The  examination  began. 

"  Do  you  believe,"  they  said,  "  that  the  sacra- 
ment of  the  altar  is  or  is  not  the  real  body  of 
Christ?" — Fryth  answered,  simply  and  firmly, 
"  I  believe  that  the  bread  is  the  body  of  Christ 
in  that  it  is  broken,  and  thus  teaches  us  that  the 
body  of  Christ  was  to  be  broken  and  delivered 
unto  death  to  redeem  us  from  our  iniquities.  I 
believe  the  bread  is  the  body  of  Christ  in  that 
it  is  distributed,  and  thus  teaches  us  that  the 
body  of  Christ  and  the  fruits  of  his  passion  are 
distributed  unto  all  faithful  people.  I  believe 
that  the  bread  is  the  body  of  Christ  so  far  as 


JOHN  FRYTH.  1 37 

it  is  received,  and  thus  it  teaches  us  that  even 
as  the  outward  man  receiveth  the  sacrament 
with  his  teeth  and  mouth,  so  doth  the  inward 
man  truly  receive  through  faith  the  body  of 
Christ  and  the  fruits  of  his  passion." 

The  judges  were  not  satisfied:  they  wanted 
a  formal  and  complete  retraction.  "  Do  you 
not  think,"  asked  one  of  them,  "  that  the  natu- 
ral body  of  Christ,  his  flesh,  blood  and  bones, 
are  contained  under  the  sacrament  and  are 
there  present  without  any  figure  of  speech  ?" 
— "  No,"  he  answered,  "  I  do  not  think  so  ;"  add- 
ing with  much  humility  and  charity,  "  notwith- 
standing, I  would  not  have  that  any  should 
count  my  saying  to  be  an  article  of  faith.  For 
even  as  I  say  that  you  ought  not  to  make  any 
necessary  article  of  the  faith  of  your  part,  so 
I  say  again  that  we  make  no  necessary  article 
of  the  faith  of  our  part,  but  leave  it  indifferent 
for  all  men  to  judge  therein  as  God  shall  open 
their  hearts,  and  no  side  to  condemn  or  despise 
the  other,  but  to  nourish  in  all  things  brotherly 
love  and  to  bear  one  another's  infirmities." 

The  commissioners  then  undertook  to  con- 
vince Fryth  of  the  truth  of  transubstantiation, 
but  he  quoted  Scripture,  St.  Augustine  and 
Chrysostom,  and  eloquently  defended  the  doc- 
trine of  the  spiritual  eating.  The  court  rose. 
Cranmer  had  been  moved,  although  he  was  still 
under  the  influence  of  Luther's  teaching.    "  The 


138  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

man  spoke  admirably,"  he  said  to  Dr.  Heath  as 
they  went  out,  "and  yet  in  my  opinion  he  is 
wrong."  Not  many  years  later  he  devoted  one  of 
the  most  important  of  his  writings  to  an  explana- 
tion of  the  doctrine  now  professed  by  the  young 
Reformer :  it  may  be  that  Fryth's  words  had  be- 
gun to  shake  him. 

Full  of  love  for  him,  Cranmer  desired  to  save 
him.  Four  times  during  the  course  of  the  ex- 
amination he  sent  for  Fryth  and  conversed  with 
him  privately,  always  asserting  the  Lutheran 
opinion.  Fryth  offered  to  maintain  his  doc- 
trine in  a  public  discussion  against  any  one 
who  was  willing  to  attack  it,  but  nobody  ac- 
cepted his  challenge.  Cranmer,  distressed  at 
seeing  all  his  efforts  useless,  found  there  was 
nothing  more  for  him  to  do ;  the  cause  was 
transferred  to  the  ordinary,  the  bishop  of  Lon- 
don, and  on  the  17th  of  June  the  prisoner  was 
once  more  committed  to  the  Tower.  The  bish- 
op selected  as  his  assessors  for  the  trial  Long- 
land,  bishop  of  Lincoln,  and  Gardiner,  bishop 
of  Winchester:  there  were  no  severer  judges 
to  be  found  on  the  episcopal  bench.  At  Cam- 
bridge, Fryth  had  been  the  most  distinguished 
pupil  of  the  clever  and  ambitious  Gardiner,  but 
this,  instead  of  exciting  the  compassion  of  that 
hard  man,  did  but  increase  his  anger.  "  Fryth 
and  his  friends,"  he  said,  "are  villains,  blasphe- 
mers and  limbs  of  the  devil." 


JOHN  FRYTH.  1 39 

On  the  20th  of  June,  Fryth  was  taken  to  St. 
Paul's  before  the  three  bishops,  and,  though  of 
a  humble  disposition  and  almost  timid  charac- 
ter, he  answered  boldly.  A  clerk  took  down 
all  his  replies,  and  Fryth,  snatching  up  the  pen, 
wrote,  "  I,  Fryth,  think  thus.  Thus  have  I  spo- 
ken, written,  defended,  affirmed  and  published 
in  my  writings."  The  bishops  having  asked 
him  if  he  would  retract  his  errors,  Fryth  re- 
plied, "  Let  justice  have  its  course  and  the 
sentence  be  pronounced."  Stokesley  did  not 
keep  him  waiting  long.  "  Not  willing  that  thou, 
Fryth,  who  art  wicked,"  he  said,  "  shouldst  be- 
come more  wicked,  and  infect  the  Lord's  flock 
with  thy  heresies,  we  declare  thee  excommuni- 
cate and  cast  out  from  the  Church,  and  leave 
thee  unto  the  secular  powers,  most  earnestly 
requiring  them  in  the  truth  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  that  thy  execution  and  punishment  be 
not  too  extreme,  nor  yet  the  gentleness  too  much 
mitigated'' 

Fryth  was  taken  to  Newgate  and  shut  up  in 
a  dark  cell,  where  he  was  bound  with  chains  on 
the  hands  and  feet  as  heavy  as  he  could  bear, 
and  round  his  neck  was  a  collar  of  iron  which 
fastened  him  to  a  post,  so  that  he  could  neither 
stand  upright  nor  sit  down.  Truly  the  "  gentle- 
ness "  was  not  "  too  much  mitigated."  His  char- 
ity never  failed  him.  "  I  am  going  to  die,"  he 
said,  "  but  I  condemn  neither  those  who  follow 


I40  MARTYRS  OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

Luther  nor  those  who  follow  CEcolampadius, 
since  both  reject  transubstantlation."  A  young 
mechanic  of  twenty-four,  Andrew  Hewet  by 
name,  was  placed  in  his  cell.  Fryth  asked  him 
for  what  crime  he  was  sent  to  prison.  "  The 
bishops,"  he  replied,  "  asked  me  what  I  thought 
of  the  sacrament,  and  I  answered,  '  I  think  as 
Fryth  does.'  Then  one  of  them  smiled,  and 
the  bishop  of  London  said,  '  Why,  Fryth  is  a 
heretic,  and  already  condemned  to  be  burnt, 
and  if  you  do  not  retract  your  opinion  you 
shall  be  burnt  with  him.'  '  Very  well,'  I  an- 
swered, '  I  am  content*  So  they  sent  me 
here  to  be  burnt  along  with  you." 

On  the  4th  of  July  they  were  both  taken  to 
Smithfield:  the  executioners  fastened  them  to 
the  post,  back  to  back ;  the  torch  was  applied, 
the  flame  rose  in  the  air,  and  Fryth,  stretching 
out  his  hands,  embraced  it  as  if  it  were  a  dear 
friend  whom  he  would  welcome.  The  specta- 
tors were  touched,  and  showed  marks  of  lively 
sympathy.  "Of  a  truth,"  said  an  evangelical 
Christian  in  after  days,  "  he  was  one  of  those 
prophets  whom  God,  having  pity  on  this  realm 
of  England,  raised  up  to  call  us  to  repentance." 
His  enemies  were  there.  Cooke,  a  fanatic 
priest,  observing  some  persons  praying,  called 
out,  "  Do  not  pray  for  such  folks,  any  more 
than  you  would  for  a  dog."  At  this  moment  a 
sweet  light  shone  on  Fryth's  face,  and  he  was 


JOHN  FRYTH.  I4I 

heard  beseeching  the  Lord  to  pardon  his  ene- 
mies. Hewet  died  first,  and  Fryth  thanked 
God  that  the  sufferings  of  his  young  brother 
were  over.  Committing  his  soul  Into  the 
Lord's  hands,  he  expired.  "Truly,"  exclaimed 
many,  "great  are  the  victories  Christ  gains  In 
his  saints !" 

So  many  souls  were  enlightened  by  Fryth's 
writings  that  this  Reformer  contributed  pow- 
erfully to  the  renovation  of  England.  "  One 
day  an  Englishman,"  says  Thomas  Becon,  pre- 
bendary of  Canterbury  and  chaplain  to  Arch- 
bishop Cranmer,  "  having  taken  leave  of  his 
mother  and  friends,  traveled  into  Derbyshire, 
and  from  thence  to  the  Peak,  a  marvelous 
barren  country,"  and  where  there  was  then 
*'  neither  learning  nor  yet  no  spark  of  godli- 
ness." Coming  into  a  little  village  named 
Alsop-in-the-Dale,  he  chanced  upon  a  cer- 
tain gentleman  also  named  Alsop,  lord  of 
that  village,  a  man  not  only  ancient  in  years, 
but  also  ripe  in  the  knowledge  of  Christ's 
doctrine.  After  they  had  taken  "a  sufficient 
repast,"  the  gentleman  showed  his  guest  cer- 
tain books  which  he  called  his  jewels  and 
principal  treasures :  these  were  the  New  Tes- 
tament and  some  books  of  Fryth's.  In  these 
godly  treatises  this  ancient  gentleman  occu- 
pied himself  among  his  rocks  and  mountains 
both  diligently  and  virtuously.       "  He   did   not 


142  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

only  love  the  gospel,"  adds   Cranmer's    chap- 
lain ;  "  he  lived  it  also.'' 

Fryth's  writings  were  not  destined  to  be 
read  always  with  the  same  avidity :  the  truth 
they  contain  is,  however,  good  for  all  times. 
The  books  of  the  apostles  and  of  the  Re- 
formers which  that  gentleman  of  Alsop  read 
in  the  sixteenth  century  were  better  calcula- 
ted to  bring  joy  and  peace  to  the  soul  than 
the  light  works  read  with  such  avidity  in  the 
world. 


XX. 

CELIO   CURIONE, 

A.  D.  1530. 

The  works  of  the  Reformers  had  reached 
Turin  in  North  Italy.  Piedmont,  from  its  vi- 
cinity to  Switzerland,  France  and  Germany, 
was  among  the  first  to  receive  a  glimpse  of 
the  sun  which  had  just  risen  beyond  the  Alps. 
The  Reformation  had  already  appeared  in  one 
of  its  cities — at  Aosta — and  most  of  its  doc- 
trines had  for  ages  been  current  among  the 
Waldensian  valleys.  Monks  of  the  Augustine 
convent  at  Turin — Hieronimo  Nio^ro  Foscianeo 
in  particular — were  among  the  number  of 
those  who  first  became  familiar  with  the  evan- 
gelical   writings.       Celio    Secundo    Curione,    a 


CELIO    CUR  ION E.  1 43 

young  man  still  at  college,  received  them  from 
their  hands  in   1520. 

About  three  leagues  and  a  half  from  Turin, 
and  at  the  foot  of  the  Alps,  was  situated  the 
town  of  Cirie,  with  its  two  parochial  churches 
and  an  Augustine  monastry.  Higher  up  there 
stood  an  old  castle  named  Cuori,  and  the  fam- 
ily to  which  it  belonged  was  called  from  it  Cu- 
rione  or  Curioni.  One  of  its  members,  Giaco- 
mino  Curione,  who  lived  at  Cirie,  had  married 
Charlotte  de  Montrotier,  lady  of  honor  to 
Blanche,  duchess  of  Savoy,  and  sister  to  the 
chief  equerry  of  the  reigning  duke.  On  the 
I  St  of  May,  1503,  a  son  was  borne  to  them 
at  Ciri^ ;  he  was  named  Celio  Secundo.  He 
lost  his  mother  as  he  came  into  the  world, 
and  his  father,  who  had  removed  to  Turin, 
and  afterward  to  Moncaglieri,  where  he  had 
property,  died  when  Celio  was  only  nine  years 
old. 

The  elder  Curione  possessed  a  Bible,  which 
in  the  hour  of  death  he  put  into  his  son's  hands. 
That  act  was  perhaps  the  cause  of  the  love  for 
Scripture  by  which  the  heir  of  the  Curiones  was 
afterward  distinguished :  the  depth  of  his  filial 
piety  made  him  look  upon  the  book  as  a  treas- 
ure before  he  knew  the  value  of  its  contents. 
Celio,  having  begun  his  education  at  Monca- 
glieri, went  to  Turin,  where  his  maternal  grand- 
mother,  Maddalena,   lived.     She   received  him 


144  MARTYRS   OF   THE    REFORMATION. 

into  her  house,  where  the  anxious  love  of  the 
venerable  lady  surrounded  him  with  the  ten- 
derest  care.  He  is  said  to  have  dwelt  on 
that  pleasant  hill  which  overlooks  Turin  whence 
the  summits  of  the  Alps  are  visible,  and  whose 
base  is  washed  by  the  slow  and  majestic  waters 
of  the  Po.  Celio  had  applied  with  his  whole 
heart  to  the  study  of  the  classical  orators,  poets, 
historians  and  philosophers :  when  he  reached 
his  twentieth  year  he  felt  deeper  longings,  which 
literature  was  incapable  of  satisfying.  The  old 
Bible  of  his  father  could  do  this :  a  new  world, 
superior  to  that  of  letters  and  philosophy — the 
world  of  the  Spirit — opened  before  his  soul. 

There  was  much  talk  just  then,  both  in  uni- 
versity and  city,  of  the  Reformation  and  the 
Reformers.  Curione  had  often  heard  certain 
priests  and  their  partisans  bitterly  complaining 
of  the  "  false  doctrines  "  of  those  heretics,  and 
making  use  of  the  harshest  language  against 
Luther  and  Zwingle.  He  listened  to  their 
abuse,  but  was  not  convinced.  He  possessed 
a  nobler  soul  than  the  majority  of  the  people 
around  him,  and  his  generous,  independent 
spirit  was  more  disposed  in  favor  of  the  ac- 
cused than  of  the  accusers.  Instead  of  joining 
in  this  almost  unanimous  censure,  Celio  said  to 
himself,  "  I  will  not  condemn  those  doctors  be- 
fore I  have  read  their  works."  It  would  appear 
that  he  was  already  known   in  the  Augustine 


CELIO    CURIONE.  145 

convent,  In  which,  as  in  that  of  Wittemberg, 
some  truly  pious  men  were  to  be  found.  The 
grace  of  his  person,  the  quickness  of  his  in- 
tellect and  his  ardent  thirst  for  religious  know- 
ledge interested  the  monks.  Knowing  that 
they  possessed  some  of  the  writings  of  the 
Reformers,  Curione  asked  for  them,  and  Father 
Hieronimo  lent  him  Luther's  Babylonian  Captiv- 
ity, translated  into  Italian  under  a  different  title. 
The  young  man  carried  it  away  eagerly  to  his 
study.  He  read  those  vigorous  pages  in  which 
the  Saxon  doctor  speaks  of  the  lively  faith  with 
which  the  Christian  ought  to  cling  to  the  prom- 
ises of  God's  word,  and  those  in  which  he  as- 
serts that  neither  bishop  nor  pope  has  any  right 
to  command  despotically  the  believer  who  has  re- 
ceived Christian  liberty  from  God.  But  Celio 
had  not  yet  obtained  light  enough  ;  he  carried 
the  book  back  to  the  convent  and  asked  for 
another.  Melanchthon's  Principles  of  Theology 
and  Zwingle's  T7'ue  a^id  False  Religion  were 
devoured  by  him  in  turn. 

A  work  was  then  going  on  in  his  soul.  The 
truths  he  had  read  in  his  Bible  grew  clearer 
and  sank  deeper  into  his  mind ;  his  spirit  thrill- 
ed with  joy  when  he  found  his  faith  confirmed 
by  that  of  these  great  doctors,  and  his  heart 
was  filled  with  love  for  Luther  and  Melanch- 
thon.  ''When  I  was  still  young,"  he  said  to 
the   latter  afterward,  "when   first   I    read  your 

10 


146  MARTYRS    OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

writings,  I  felt  such  love  for  you  that  it  seemed 
hardly  capable  of  increase." 

Curione  was  not  satisfied  with  the  writings 
merely  of  these  men  of  God :  his  admiration 
for  them  was  such  that  he  longed  to  hear  them  ; 
an  ardent  desire  to  start  immediately  for  Ger- 
many was  kindled  in  his  heart.  He  talked 
about  it  with  his  friends,  especially  with  Gio- 
vanni and  Francesco  Guarino,  whom  the  gos- 
pel had  also  touched,  and  who  declared  their 
readiness  to  depart  with  him. 

The  three  young  Italians,  enthusiastic  admir- 
ers of  Luther  and  Melanchthon,  quitted  Turin 
and  started  for  Wittemberg.  They  turned  their 
steps  toward  the  valley  of  Aosta,  intending  to 
cross  the  St.  Bernard,  where  for  more  than  five 
centuries  a  house  of  the  Augustinian  order  had 
existed  for  the  reception  of  travelers  who  made 
use  of  that  then  very  much-frequented  pass. 
They  conversed  about  their  journey,  their  feel- 
ings and  their  hopes  ;  and,  not  content  with  this, 
they  spoke  of  the  truth  with  simple-hearted 
earnestness  to  the  people  they  met  with  on  the 
road  or  at  the  inns.  In  the  ardor  of  their  youth- 
ful zeal  they  even  allowed  themselves  to  enter 
into  imprudent  discussions  upon  the  Romish 
doctrines.  They  were  "bursting  to  speak;" 
they  could  not  wait  till  they  had  crossed  the 
Alps ;  the  spirit  with  which  they  were  filled 
carried  them  away.     They  had  been  cautioned, 


CELIO    CURIONE.  1 47 

and  had  resolved  to  be  circumspect ;  but,  "  how- 
ever deep  the  hiding-places  in  the  hearts  of 
men,"  said  a  Reformer,  "  their  tongues  betray 
their  hidden  affections."  One  of  those  with 
whom  these  Piedmontese  youths  had  debated 
went  and  denounced  them  to  Boniface,  cardinal- 
bishop  of  Ivrea,  and  pointed  out  the  road  they 
were  to  take.  The  prelate  gave  the  necessary 
orders,  and  just  as  the  three  students  were  en- 
tering the  valley  of  Aosta  the  cardinal's  satel- 
lites, who  were  waiting  for  them,  laid  hold  of 
them  and  carried  them  to  prison. 

What  a  disappointment !  At  the  very  time 
they  were  anticipating  the  delights  of  an  unre- 
strained intercourse  with  Melanchthon  and  Lu- 
ther they  found  themselves  in  chains  and  soli- 
tary imprisonment.  Curione  possessed  friends 
in  that  district  who  belonged  to  the  higher 
nobility ;  and,  contriving  to  inform  them  of 
his  fate,  they  exerted  themselves  in  his  behalf. 
The  cardinal,  having  sent  for  him,  soon  discov- 
ered that  his  prisoner  was  not  an  ordinary  man. 
Struck  with  the  extent  of  his  knowledge  and 
the  eleeance  of  his  mind,  he  resolved  to  do  all 
he  could  to  attach  him  to  the  Romish  Church. 
He  loaded  him  with  attentions,  promised  to  bear 
the  necessary  expenses  for  the  continuation  of 
his  studies,  and  with  that  intent  placed  him  in 
the  priory  of  St.  Benignus.  It  is  probable  that 
Cornelio  and  Guarino  were  soon  released :  al- 


148  MARTYKS    OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

though  less  celebrated  than  their  fellow-travel- 
er, they  afterward  became  distinguished  by  their 
evangelical  zeal. 

Although  shut  up  In  a  monastery,  Curlone's 
soul  burnt  with  zeal  for  the  word  of  God.  He 
regretted  that  Germany  did  not  afford  him  the 
opportunity  on  which  he  had  so  much  reckon- 
ed, and,  unable  to  increase  his  light  at  the  altar 
of  Wittemberg,  he  wished  at  least  to  make  use 
of  what  he  had  for  the  benefit  of  the  monks 
commissioned  to  convert  him.  He  was  grieved 
at  the  superstitious  practices  of  their  worship, 
and  would  have  desired  to  enfranchise  those 
about  him.  A  shrine  put  in  a  prominent  place 
on  the  altar  enclosed  a  skull  and  other  bones 
reported  to  be  those  of  St.  Agapetus  and  St. 
Tibur  the  martyr,  and  which  during  certain 
solemnities  were  presented  to  the  adoration 
of  the  people.  Why  set  dry  bones  in  the  place 
which  should  be  occupied  by  the  living  word  of 
God  ?  Are  not  their  writings  the  only  authen- 
tic remains 'of  the  apostles  and  prophets?  Cu- 
rione  refused  to  pay  even  the  slightest  honor  to 
these  relics,  and  in  his  private  conversation  he 
went  so  far  as  to  speak  to  some  of  the  monks 
against  such  idolatrous  worship,  instructing 
them  in  the  true  faith.  He  resolved  to  do 
something  more.  In  the  convent  library  he 
had  found  a  Bible  to  which  no  one  paid  any 
attention  ;  he  had,  moreover,  noticed  the  place 


CELIO    CURIONE.  1 49 

where  the  monks  kept  the  key  of  the  shrine 
they  held  so  dear.  One  day — probably  in  1530 
— taking  advantage  of  a  favorable  opportunity, 
when  the  monks  were  occupied  elsewhere,  he 
went  into  the  library,  took  down  the  holy  word 
of  which  David  said  it  was  ''  more  to  be  desired 
than  gold,"  carried  it  into  the  church,  opened 
the  mysterious  coffer,  removed  the  relics,  put 
the  Bible  in  their  place,  and  laid  this  inscription 
upon  it :  "  This  is  the  ark  of  the  covenant, 
wherein  a  man  can  inquire  of  the  true  oracles 
of  God,  and  in  which  are  contained  the  true 
relics  of  the  saints."  Curione,  with  emotion 
and  joy,  closed  the  shrine  and  left  the  church 
without  being  observed. 

The  act,  rash  as  it  was,  had  a  deep  and 
evangelical  meaning :  it  expressed  the  greatest 
principles  of  the  Reformation.  Some  time  after, 
at  one  of  the  festivals  when  the  relics  were  to 
be  presented  to  the  adoration  of  the  worship- 
ers, the  monks  opened  the  shrine.  Their  sur- 
prise, emotion  and  rage  were  boundless,  and  they 
at  once  accused  their  young  companion  of  sacri- 
lege. Being  on  the  watch,  he  made  his  escape, 
and,  quitting  Piedmont,  took  refuge  in  Milan. 

In  that  city  Curione  zealously  devoted  himself 
to  lecturing,  but,  being  at  the  same  time  disgust- 
ed with  the  unmeaning  practices  of  the  monks, 
he  gave  himself  with  his  whole  heart  to  works 
of  Christian  charity.     As  famine  and  pestilence 


150  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

were  wasting  the  country,  he  soon  after  occu- 
pied himself  wholly  in  succoring  the  poor  and 
the  sick ;  he  solicited  the  donations  of  the  no- 
bility, prevailed  on  the  priests  to  sell  for  the 
relief  of  the  wretched  the  precious  objects 
which  adorned  their  churches,  consoled  the 
dying,  and  even  buried  the  dead.  In  the  con- 
vent he  had  appeared  to  be  struggling  for  faith 
only ;  in  the  midst  of  the  pestilence  he  seemed 
to  be  living  for  works  only.  He  remembered 
that  Jesus  had  come  to  serve,  and,  following  his 
Master's  example,  he  was  eager  to  console 
every  misery.  "  Christ,  having  become  the  liv- 
ing root  of  his  soul,  had  made  it  a  fruitful  tree." 
As  soon  as  the  scourge  abated  every  one  was 
eager  to  testify  a  proper  gratitude  to  Celio,  and 
the  Isacios,  one  of  the  best  families  in  the  prov- 
ince, gave  him  the  hand  of  one  of  their  daugh- 
ters, Margarita  Bianca,  a  young  woman  of  great 
beauty,  who  became  the  faithful  and  brave  com- 
panion of  his  life. 

Some  time  after  this,  Curione,  believing  that 
he  had  nothing  more  to  fear,  and  desiring  to 
receive  his  patrimony,  to  revisit  his  native  coun- 
try and  to  devote  his  strength  and  faith  to  her 
service,  returned  to  Piedmont.  His  hopes  were 
disappointed.  Cruel  family  vexations  and  cler- 
ical persecutions  assailed  a  life  that  was  never 
free  from  agitation.  He  had  lost  all  but  one 
sister,  whose  husband,  learning  that  he  intend- 


CELIO   CURIONE.  I5I 

ed  claiming  his  inheritance,  determined  to  ruin 
him.  A  Dominican  monk  was  making  a  great 
noise  by  his  sermons  in  a  neighboring  city. 
CeHo  took  a  book  from  his  hbrary  and  went 
with  some  friends  to  hear  him.  He  expected 
that  the  monk,  according  to  the  custom  of  his 
class,  would  draw  a  frightful  picture  of  the  Re- 
formers. Curione  knew  that  the  essence  of 
the  preaching  of  the  evangelical  ministry  was 
Christ,  justification  by  faith  in  his  atoning  work, 
the  new  life  which  he  imparts  and  the  new  com- 
mandments which  he  gives.  According  to  him, 
the  task  of  the  servant  of  God,  now  that  all 
things  were  made  new,  was  to  exalt  not  the 
Church,  but  the  Saviour,  and  to  make  known 
all  the  preciousness  of  Christ,  rather  than  to 
stun  his  hearers  by  furious  declamations  against 
their  adversaries.  Such  were  not  the  opinions 
entertained  at  that  time — we  will  not  say  by  the 
great  doctors  of  the  Romish  Church,  but  by  the 
vulgar  preachers  of  the  papacy.  Laying  down 
as  a  fundamental  principle  that  there  zvas  no 
salvation  oict  of  the  Church,  they  naturally  be- 
lieved themselves  called  to  urge  the  necessity 
of  union,  not  with  Christ,  but  with  Rome — to 
extol  the  beauties  of  its  hierarchy,  its  worship 
and  its  devout  institutions.  Instead  of  feedine 
the  sheep  by  giving  them  the  spiritual  nourish- 
ment of  faith,  they  thought  only  of  pronouncing 
declamatory  eulogies  of  the   fold  and  drawing 


152  MA/^TYHS   OF   THE    REFORMATION. 

horrible  pictures  of  the  devouring  wolves  that 
were  prowling  about  it.  If  there  had  been  no 
Protestants  to  combat,  no  Luther  or  Calvin  to 
calumniate,  many  popish  preachers  would  have 
found  the  sermon  a  superfluous  part  of  the  ser- 
vice, as  had  been  the  case  in  the  Middle  Ages. 

T\\Q  good  monk,  whom  Curione  and  his  friends 
had  gone  to  hear,  preached  according  to  the 
oratorical  rules  of  vulgar  preachers.  ''  Do  you 
know,"  he  exclaimed,  "  why  Luther  pleases  the 
Germans  ?  Because,  under  the  name  of  Chris- 
tian liberty,  he  permits  them  to  indulge  in  all 
t;inds  of  excess.  He  teaches,  moreover,  that 
Christ  is  not  God,  and  that  he  was  not  born  of 
a  virgin."  And,  continuing  this  monkish  phil- 
ippic with  great  vehemence,  he  inflamed  the 
animosity  of  his  hearers. 

When  the  sermon  was  over  Curione  asked 
the  prelate  who  was  present  for  permission  to 
say  a  few  words.  Having  obtained  it,  and  the 
congregation  being  silent  and  expectant,  he 
said  :  ''  Reverend  father,  you  have  brought  se- 
rious charges  against  Luther:  can- you  tell  me 
the  book  or  the  place  in  which  he  teaches  the 
things  with  which  you   reproach  him  ?" 

The  monk  replied  that  he  could  not  do  so 
then,  but  if  Curione  would  accompany  him  to 
Turin  he  would  show  him  the  passages.  The 
young  man  rejoined  with  indignation,  ''  Then 
I  will  tell  you  at  once  the  page  and  book  where 


CELIO    CURIO NE.  153 

the  Wittemberg  doctor  has  said  the  very  con- 
trary." And,  opening  Luther's  Commentary  on 
the  Galatians,  he  read  aloud  several  passages 
which  completely  demonstrated  the  falseness 
of  the  monk's  calumnies.  The  persons  of  rank 
present  at  the  service  were  disgusted;  the  peo- 
ple went  still  further:  some  violent  men,  exas- 
perated by  the  Domincian's  having  told  them 
such  impudent  lies,  rushed  upon  him  and  struck 
him.  The  more  reasonable  had  some  trouble 
to  rescue  him  and  send  him  home  safe  and 
sound. 

This  scene  made  a  great  noise.  The  bishop 
and  the  inquisitors  looked  upon  it  as  a  revolt 
against  the  papacy.  Curione  was  a  firebrand 
flung  by  Satan  into  the  midst  of  the  Church, 
and  they  felt  that  if  they  did  not  quench  it  in- 
stantly the  impetuous  wind  which,  crossing  the 
Alps,  was  beginning  to  blow  in  the  peninsula, 
would  scatter  the  sparks  far  and  wide  and 
spread  the  conflagration  everywhere.  The 
valiant  evangelist  was  seized,  taken  to  Turin, 
thrown  into  prison,  and  in  a  moment,  as  soon 
as  the  news  circulated,  all  his  old  enemies  set 
to  work.  His  covetous  brother,  and  even  his 
sister,  as  it  would  appear,  made  common  cause 
with  the  priests  to  destroy  him.  Fanaticism 
and  avarice  joined  together  ;  one  party  wished 
to  deprive  him  of  his  property  only,  but  the 
other  wanted  his  life.     It  was  not  the  first  time 


154  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

Curione  had  been  in  prison  for  speaking  ac- 
cordine  to  the  truth:  he  did  not  lose  couracre  ; 
he  preserved  all  the  serenity  of  his  mind  and 
remained  master  of  himself.  The  ecclesiastics 
charored  with  the  examination  overwhelmed 
him  with  questions.  He  was  reminded  of  the 
relics  taken  away  from  the  monastery  of  St. 
Benignus,  the  journey  he  had  wished  to  take, 
to  Germany,  and  the  conversations  he  had  held 
on  the  road,  and  was  threatened  with  the  stake. 
The  bishop,  knowing  that  Curione  had  pro- 
tectors among  the  first  people  in  the  city,  start- 
ed for  Rome  in  order  to  obtain  from  the  pope 
in  person  his  condemnation  to  death.  Before 
leaving  he  transferred  the  prisoner  to  his  coad- 
jutor David,  brother  of  the  influential  Cardinal 
Cibo.  David,  wishing  to  make  sure  of  his  man, 
and  to  prevent  its  being  known  where  he  was 
detained,  removed  him  by  night  from  the  prison 
in  which  he  had  been  placed,  took  him  to  one 
of  those  mansions,  not  very  unlike  castles,  that 
are  often  to  be  found  in  Italy,  and  locked  him 
up  in  a  room  enclosed  by  very  thick  walls.  His 
officers  attached  heavy  chains  to  poor  Cello's 
feet,  riveted  them  roughly  and  fastened  them 
into  the  wall ;  and,  finally,  two  sentries  were 
placed  inside  the  door  of  the  house.  When 
that  was  done  David  felt  at  ease,  sure  of  being 
able  to  produce  his  prisoner  when  the  condem- 
nation arrived  from  Rome.    There  was  no  hope 


CELIO    CURIO NE.  155 

left  the  wretched  man  of  being  saved.  Curi- 
one  felt  that  his  death  could  not  be  far  off,  but, 
though  in  great  distress,  he  still  remained  full 
of  courage. 

The  different  operations  by  which  David  had 
secured  his  prisoner  had  been  carried  on  during 
the  night ;  when  the  day  came  Curione  looked 
round  him :  the  place  seemed  to  bring  to  his 
memory  certain  half-effaced  recollections.  He 
began  to  examine  everything  about  him  more 
carefully,  and  by  degrees  remembered  that  once 
upon  a  time,  when  a  boy,  he  had  been  in  that 
house,  in  that  very  room :  it  had  probably  been 
the  house  of  some  friend.  He  called  to  remem- 
brance exactly  the  arrangement  of  the  building, 
the  galleries,  the  staircase,  the  door  and  the  win- 
dows. But  ere  long  he  was  recalled  from  these 
thoughts  by  a  feeling  of  pain  :  his  jailers  had 
riveted  the  fetters  so  tightly  that  his  feet  began 
to  swell  and  the  anguish  became  intolerable. 
When  his  keeper  came  as  usual  to  bring  him 
food,  Curione  spoke  to  him  of  his  pain,  and 
begged  him  to  leave  one  of  his  feet  at  liberty, 
adding  that  when  that  was  healed  the  jailer 
could  chain  it  up  again  and  set  the  other  free. 
The  man  consented,  and  some  days  passed  in 
this  way,  during  which  the  prisoner  experienced 
by  turns  severe  pain  and  occasional  relief. 

This  circumstance  did  not  prevent  him  from 
making  the  most  serious  reflections.    He  should 

o 


156  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

never  see  his  wife,  his  children  or  his  friends 
again  ;  he  could  no  longer  take  part  in  that 
great  work  of  revival  which  God  was  then 
carrying  on  in  the  Church.  He  knew  what 
sentence  would  be  delivered  at  Rome.  When 
St.  John  saw  the  woman  seated  on  the  seven 
hills,  he  exclaimed,  *'  Babylon !  .  .  .  drunken 
with  the  blood  of  the  saints  and  martyrs  of 
Jesus."  Death  awaited  Curione  on  the  bishop's 
return  :  of  that  he  had  not  a  doubt.  But  was 
it  not  lawful  to  defend  one's  life  against  the 
violence  of  murderers  ?  An  idea  suddenly 
crossed  his  inventive  mind :  the  hope  of  es- 
caping, of  seeing  his  dear  ones  again,  of  again 
serving  the  cause  of  the  gospel,  flashed  upon 
him.  He  reflected  and  planned  ;  the  expedient 
which  occurred  to  his  mind  was  singular:  pos- 
sibly it  might  not  succeed,  but  it  might  also  be 
the  means  of  saving  him  from  the  hands  of  his 
persecutors.  When  Peter  was  in  prison  the 
angel  of  the  Lord  opened  the  door  and  led 
him  out.  Celio  did  not  expect  a  miracle,  but 
he  thought  it  was  man's  duty  to  do  all  in  his 
power  to  thwart  the  counsels  of  the  ungodly. 
He  was  not,  however,  very  sanguine  of  success. 
God  holds  the  lives  of  his  children  in  his  hand  ; 
the  Lord  will  restore  him  to  liberty  or  send  him 
to  the  scaffold,  as  he  shall  judge  best. 

Curione  delayed  no  longer :  he  proceeded  at 
once  to  carry  out  the  curious  and  yet  simple  ex- 


CELIO    CUR  I  ONE.  I  57 

pedient  which  had  occurred  to  his  Hvely  imagi- 
nation. He  took  the  boot  off  his  free  leg  and 
stuffed  it  with  rags  ;  he  then  broke  off  the  leg 
of  a  stool  that  was  within  his  reach,  fastened 
the  sham  foot  to  it,  and  contrived  a  wooden 
leg,  which  he  fixed  to  his  knee  in  such  a  way 
that  he  could  move  it  as  if  it  were  a  real  leg. 
His  Spanish  robe,  reaching  down  to  his  heels, 
covered  everything  and  made  the  matter  easier. 
Presently  he  heard  the  footsteps  of  his  jailers  : 
luckily,  everything  was  ready.  They-  entered, 
did  what  they  were  accustomed  to  do  every 
day,  loosed  the  chained  foot,  and  then,  without 
examining  too  closely,  for  they  had  no  suspi- 
cions, they  put  the  fetters  on  the  sham  leg  and 
went  away. 

Celio  was  free  ;  he  rose,  he  walked  ;  surprised 
at  a  deliverance  so  little  expected,  he  was  al- 
most beside  himself.  He  was  rescued  from 
death.  But  all  was  not  over;  he  had  still  to 
get  out  of  that  strong  mansion,  where  so  close 
a  watch  was  kept  over  him.  He  waited  until 
night,  and  when  darkness  brooded  over  the 
city  and  his  keepers  were  sunk  in  sleep  he 
approached  the  door  of  the  chamber.  The 
jailers,  knowing  that  the  prisoner  was  chained 
to  the  wall  and  that  sentinels  were  posted  at 
the  outer  gate,  had  only  pushed  it  to,  without 
locking  it.  Curione  opened  it,  and  moved  along 
with  slow  and  cautious  steps,  avoiding  the  slight- 


158  MARTYRS   OF   THE    REFORMATION. 

est  noise  for  fear  of  giving  an  alarm.  Although 
it  was  quite  dark,  he  easily  found  his  way  by  the 
help  of  his  memory:  he  groped  his  course  along 
the  galleries  and  descended  the  stairs  ;  but  on 
reachino-  the  door  of  the  house  he  found  it  close- 
ly  shut.  What  was  to  be  done  now  ?  The  sbij'ri 
were  asleep,  but  he  dared  not  make  any  noise, 
lest  he  should  wake  them.  Recollecting  that 
there  was  a  window  placed  rather  high  on  one 
side  of  the  door,  he  contrived  to  reach  it,  leapt 
into  the  courtyard,  scaled  the  outer  wall,  fell 
into  the  street,  and  began  to  seek  for  a  hiding- 
place  as  fast  as  his  wounded  feet  would  permit 
him.  When  the  morning  came  there  were  great 
surprise  and  agitation  in  the  house.  The  fidel- 
ity of  the  jailers  was  not  suspected,  and  as  no 
one  could  explain  the  prisoner's  flight,  his  ene- 
mies circulated  the  report  that  he  had  had  re- 
course to  magic  to  save  himself  from  death. 

Curione  himself  was  surprised.  The  thought 
that  he  had  escaped  not  only  from  the  hands  of 
his  guards,  but  also  from  the  terrible  condem- 
nation of  the  sovereign  pontiff,  whose  support 
the  bishop  had  gone  to  solicit,  still  further  mag- 
nified in  his  eyes  the  greatness  of  his  deliver- 
ance. He  had  felt,  and  severely  too,  the  power 
of  his  enemies  ;  but  he  saw  that,  however  keen 
the  hatred  of  the  world,  a  breath  of  heaven  was 
sufficient  to  frustrate  its  plots.  He  hastened  to 
leave  Turin,  and  took  refuge  in  a  secluded  vil- 


CELio  CUR  I  one:  159 

lage  in  the  duchy  of  Milan,  where  his  family 
joined  him.  His  reputation  as  a  man  of  letters 
had  spread  through  that  country,  and  certain 
Milanese  gentlemen  who  came  to  pass  the  sum- 
mer in  the  villas  near  the  lonely  house  which 
he  inhabited  entertained  a  high  opinion  of 
him.  One  of  them,  happening  to  meet  him, 
recognized  him  ;  he  spoke  of  him  to  others  of 
his  friends,  who  made  his  acquaintance,  and  all 
of  them,  delighted  with  his  amiable  character 
and  cultivated  mind,  were  unwilling  that  such 
fine  talents  should  remain  buried  in  a  seques- 
tered village.  They  got  him  invited  to  the 
University  of  Pavia,  where  he  was  soon  sur- 
rounded by  an  admiring  audience. 

The  Inquisition,  for  a  time  at  fault,  discovered 
at  last  that  the  daring  heretic  who  had  escaped 
from  his  prison  at  Turin  was  teaching  quietly 
at  Pavia ;  it  issued  an  arrest  against  him,  being 
determined  to  put  an  end  to  the  harassing  war- 
fare which  this  independent  man  was  waging 
against  the  darkness  of  the  Middle  Ages.  The 
familiars  of  the  Holy  Office  lay  in  ambush  with 
the  intention  of  seizing  the  Piedmontese  pro- 
fessor as  he  was  leaving  his  house  to  go  to  the 
lecture-room.  But  the  plot  got  wind ;  the  stu- 
dents, who  were  very  numerous,  supported  by 
some  of  the  chief  people  of  the  town,  formed 
a  battalion  which  surrounded  Curione  as  he 
left  his  house,  conducted  him  to  the  academy, 


l6o  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

and  when  the  lecture  was  over  escorted  him 
home  again.  Pubhc  opinion  declared  itself  so 
strongly  in  favor  of  liberty  of  teaching  and 
against  Romish  tyranny  that  three  years 
elapsed  without  the  inquisitors  being  able  to 
seize  the  professor,  which  caused  great  joy  all 
over  the  city.  The  pope,  irritated  at  such  re- 
sistance, threatened  to  excommunicate  the  sen- 
ate of  Pavia ;  and  Curione,  unwilling  to  imperil 
his  friends,  quitted  that  town  for  Venice,  whence 
he  proceeded  to  Ferrara,  to  live  under  that  en- 
lightened protection  which  the  Duchess  Renee 
extended  to  all  who  loved  the  gospel. 


XXI. 
AONIO   PALEARIO, 

A.  D.  1534. 

In  1534  there  lived  in  Sienna,  Italy,  a  friend 
of  Greek  and  Latin  literature,  an  enthusiast  for 
Cicero — whose  elegant  and  harmonious  periods 
he  translated  better  than  any  other  scholar — 
and  who  was  particularly  distinguished  among 
the  professors  of  the  university  for  his  eleva- 
tion of  soul,  love  of  truth,  boldness  of  thought 
and  the  couracre  with  which  he  attacked  false 
doctors  and  sham  ascetics.  He  made  a  sensa- 
tion in  the  world  of  schools,  and,  though  he 
had  no  official  post,  the  students  crowded  to 


AON/0   PA  LEA  RIO.  l6l 

his  lectures.  His  name  was  Antonio  clella  Pa- 
glia,  which  he  Latinized,  according  to  the  fashion 
of  the  age,  into  Aonius  Palearius.  This,  again, 
was  Itahanized  into  Aonio  Paleario. 

Among  the  hills  which  bound  the  Roman  Cam- 
pagna,  near  the  source  of  the  Garigliano,  stands 
the  ancient  city  of  Veroli ;  here  he  was  born  in 
1503 — of  an  old  patrician  house  according  to 
some,  of  the  family  of  an  artisan  according  to 
others.  In  1520  he  went  to  Rome,  where  the 
love  of  art  and  antiquity  was  then  much  culti- 
vated, and  from  the  lessons  of  illustrious  teach- 
ers he  learnt  to  admire  Demosthenes,  Homer 
and  Virgil.  A  rumor  of  war  disturbed  his 
peaceful  labors.  In  1527  the  Imperial  army 
descended  the  Alps,  and,  like  an  avalanche 
which,  slipping  from  the  icy  mountain-tops, 
rushes  down  into  the  valley,  it  overthrew  and 
destroyed  everything  in  its  course.  Milan  had 
been  crushed,  and  when  the  news  reached 
Rome  at  the  same  time  with  the  furious  threats 
uttered  by  the  Imperialists  against  the  city  of 
the  pontiffs,  the  young  student  exclaimed,  "  If 
they  come  near  us  we  are  lost."  Paleario 
hastily  took  refuge  in  the  valley  where  he  was 
born,  but  even  there  the  spray  of  the  avalanche 
reached  him.  When  he  returned  to  the  papal 
city,  alas  !  the  houses  were  in  ruins,  the  men 
of  letters  had  fled.  He  turned  his  eyes  toward 
Tuscany,  quitted  Rome   in   the  latter  part  of 


11 


1 62  MARTY/iS  OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

1529,  and,  after  spending  some  time  at  Peru- 
gia, went  on  to  Sienna,  where  he  arrived  In  the 
autumn  of  1530. 

The  ancient  city  of  the  Etruscans,  transform- 
ed Into  a  city  of  the  Middle  Ages,  at  first  de- 
Hghted  the  friend  of  letters.  Its  position  In  the 
midst  of  smiling  hills,  the  fertility  of  its  fields, 
the  abundance  of  everything,  the  beauty  of  the 
buildings,  the  cultivated  minds  of  the  Inhabit- 
ants,— all  enraptured  him.  But  ere  long  he 
discovered  a  wound  which  wrung  his  heart : 
the  state  was  torn  by  factions ;  an  Ignorant, 
impetuous,  turbulent  democracy  had  the  upper 
hand  ;  the  strength  of  a  people  who  might  have 
done  great  things  was  wasted  In  Idle  and  bar- 
ren disputes.  The  most  eminent  men  wept 
over  the  sorrows  of  their  country  and  fled  with 
their  wives  and  children  from  the  desolated 
land.  "Alas!"  exclaimed  Paleario,  ''the  city 
wants  nothing  but  concord  between  the  cit- 
izens." He  met,  however,  with  an  affectionate 
welcome  in  the  families  of  a  few  nobles,  and 
after  visiting  Florence,  Ferrara,  Padua  and  Bo- 
logna, he  returned  In  1532  to  Sienna,  to  which 
his  friends  had  Invited  him. 

Paleario  was  a  poet :  his  fancy  was  at  work 
wherever  he  went,  and  either  during  his  travels 
or  on  his  return  to  the  Ghlbeline  city  he  com- 
posed a  Latin  poem  on  the  Immortality  of  the 
soul.     We  find  traces  of  the  Romish  doctrine 


AONIO   PALEARIO.  1 63 

in  it,  especially  of  purgatory  and  of  the  queen- 
ship  of  the  Virgin.  His  eyes,  however,  were 
already  turned  toward  the  Reformation.  He 
desired  to  have  readers  like  Sadolet,  and  also 
the  sympathy  of  Germany.  The  poem  evi- 
dences a  soul  which,  without  having  yet  found 
God  and  the  peace  he  gives,  sighs  after  a  new 
earth,  a  rejuvenated  humanity  and  a  happiness 
which  consists  in  contemplating  the  Almighty, 
the  King  of  men,  as  the  eternal  and  absolute 
goodness  and  supreme  happiness. 

Ere  long  Paleario  took  another  step.  The 
religious  questions  by  which  Italy  was  so  deep- 
ly agitated  engrossed  that  eminent  mind.  He 
commenced  reading  not  only  St.  Augustine, 
but  the  Reformers  and  the  Holy  Scriptures, 
and  began  to  speak  in  his  lectures  with  a  lib- 
erty that  enraptured  his  hearers,  but  so  exas- 
perated the  priests  that  his  friend  and  patron 
Sadolet  recommended  him  to  be  more  prudent. 
Paleario,  however,  boldly  crossed  the  thresh- 
old which  separates  the  literary  from  the  Chris- 
tian world.  He  received  thoroughly  the  doc- 
trine of  justification  by  faith,  and  found  in  it 
a  peace  which  was  to  him  a  warrant  of  its 
truth. 

"  Since  He  in  whom  the  Godhead  dwells,"  he 
said,  "has  so  lovingly  poured  out  his  blood  for 
our  salvation,  we  must  not  doubt  of  the  favor 
of  Heaven.     All  who  turn   their  souls  toward 


164  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

Jesus  crucified,  and  bind  themselves  to  him 
with  thorough  confidence,  are  deUvered  from 
evil  and  receive  formveness  for  their  sins." 

o 

Paleario  loved  the  country.  Having  noticed 
a  villa  which  had  belonged  to  Aulus  Caecina, 
the  friend  of  Cicero,  situated  between  Colle 
and  Volterra,  at  the  summit  of  a  plateau  whence 
flowed  a  stream  watering  the  slopes,  and  where 
a  pure  air  and  the  tranquillity  of  the  fields 
could  be  enjoyed,  the  Christian  poet  bought 
it,  and  there,  in  his  beloved  Cecignana,  on  the 
terrace  before  the  house  or  amono-  the  forest 
oaks,  he  passed  many  a  peaceful  day  conse- 
crated to  serious  meditation.  He  knew  that 
the  world  on  which  he  fixed  his  eyes  was  the 
creation  of  the  supreme,  the  free,  will  of  God — 
that  an  inward  and  uninterrupted  bond  exist- 
ed between  the  Creator  and  his  creatures ;  and 
rejoiced  that,  owing  to  the  redemption  of  Jesus 
Christ,  there  would  be  formed  out  of  its  inhab- 
itants a  kingdom  of  God  from  which  evil  would 
be  for  ever  banished. 

Paleario's  tender  soul  needed  domestic  affec- 
tions, and  at  Sienna  he  was  alone.  He  married 
Marietta  Guidotti,  a  young  person  of  respect- 
able parentage,  who  had  been  brought  up  with 
holy  modesty.  She  bore  him  two  sons,  Lam- 
pridius  and  Phaedrus,  and  two  daughters,  As- 
pasia  and  Sophonisba,  whom  he  loved  tenderly, 
and  who  were,  after  God,  the  consolation  of  a 


AONIO   PA  LEAR  10.  1 65 

life  agitated  by  the  Injustice  of  his  enemies. 
Family  affections  and  a  love  for  the  beauties 
of  Nature  were  in  Paleario,  as  they  often  are, 
the  marks  of  an  elevated  soul.  At  a  later 
period,  when  his  life  had  become  still  more 
bitter ;  when  he  had  lost  his  health,  and  his 
faith  had  made  him  an  object  of  horror  to 
the  fanatical;  when  he  exclaimed,  "All  men 
are  full  of  hatred  and  ill-will  toward  me ;"  when 
he  foresaw  that  he  must  ere  long  succumb  be- 
neath the  blows  of  his  adversaries, — even  then 
he  sighed  after  the  country,  and  wrote  to  one 
of  his  friends,  with  a  simplicity  reminding  us 
of  ancient  times,  "■  I  am  weary  of  study :  fain 
would  I  fly  to  you  and  pass  my  days  under  the 
warm  bright  sky  of  your  fields.  At  early  morn 
or  when  the  day  begins  to  wane  we  will  wander 
through  the  country,  around  the  cottages,  with 
Lamprldlus  and  Phaedrus,  my  darling  boys,  and 
with  your  wife  and  mine.  Get  ready  the  gar- 
den, that  we  may  live  on  herbs,  for  I  am  utterly 
disgusted  with  the  luxurious  tables  of  our  cities. 
The  farm  shall  supply  us  with  eggs  and  poultry, 
the  river  with  fish.  Oh,  how  sweet  are  the  re- 
pasts at  which  we  eat  the  fruit  we  gather  from 
our  own  garden,  the  fowls  fed  by  our  own  hands, 
the  birds  caught  In  our  nets  ! — sweeter  far  than 
those  where  you  see  nothing  on  the  table  but 
provisions  bought  in  the  market.  We  will  work 
in  the  fields  ;  we  will  tire  ourselves.     Make  your 


1 66  MARTYRS  OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

preparations ;  get  ready  a  saw,  a  hatchet,  a  wedge 
to  cleave  the  wood,  prunlng-shears,  a  harrow  and 
a  hoe.  If  these  implements  fail  us,  we  will  be 
content  with  planting  trees  that  shall  serve  for 
ages  yet  to  come."  It  is  pleasing  to  see  the  dis- 
ciple of  Cicero,  and  especially  of  the  Bible,  at  a 
time  when  he  was  tormented  by  sickness  and 
the  hatred  of  the  wicked,  rejoicing  like  a  child 
at  the  thought  of  planting  trees  that  should  give 
a  cool  shade  and  welcome  fruit  to  coming  gen- 
erations. We  shall  now  describe  the  end  of  his 
stay  at  Sienna,  and  what  brought  his  great  sor- 
row upon  him,  although  it  will  lead  us  beyond 
the  limits  of  time  we  have  prescribed  for  our- 
selves. 

The  best  friend  Paleario  possessed  was  An- 
tonio Bellantes,  president  of  the  Council  of 
Nine,  a  grave  and  benevolent  man,  generally 
loved  and  respected ;  in  a  time  of  difficulty  he 
had  assisted  the  state  by  the  gift  of  two  million 
golden  crowns.  Bellantes  esteemed  Paleario 
very  highly,  and  Paleario  loved  him  above  all 
other  men.  In  the  course  of  the  popular  dis- 
turbances the  members  of  the  Council  of  Nine 
had  been  banished,  but  the  senate  and  people 
had  entreated  Bellantes  to  remain  at  Sienna — 
a  circumstance  which  had  greatly  enraged  his 
enemies.  Ruffians  broke  into  his  house  one 
night  and  plundered  it.  Somewhat  later  Bel- 
lantes died,  leaving  all  his  ready  money  to  his 


AONIO   PA  LEA  RIO.  1 6/ 

mother,  that  she  might  deHver  It  to  his  sons 
when  they  came  of  age.  The  good  lady  was  a 
great  friend  of  the  monks  ;  every  day  the  Ca- 
puchins used  to  visit  her,  and  when  she  fell  sick 
they  crowded  round  her  bed.  After  her  death 
no  property  could  be  found  In  her  house  ex- 
cept some  torn  bags  which  appeared  to  have 
held  money.  The  sons  of  Bellantes  accused 
the  monks  of  having  stolen  their  inheritance, 
and  Paleario  supported  them  with  his  elo- 
quence. The  monks  denied  the  fact,  and 
were  acquitted  upon  their  solemn  oath.  In- 
flamed with  anger  against  Paleario,  they  re- 
solved  upon   his   destruction. 

At  the  head  of  his  adversaries  was  the  sen- 
ator Otta  Melio  Cotta,  a  rich,  powerful  and 
ambitious  man  of  a  domineering  spirit.  At 
first  he  had  been  mixed  up  with  political  affairs^ 
but  he  afterward  enlisted  under  the  banners  of 
the  clergy  and  made  common  cause  with  the 
monks.  A  plot  was  formed  In  the  Observan- 
tine  convent,  situated  about  a  mile  from  Sienna 
in  the  midst  of  woods,  grottoes  and  holy  places. 
Three  hundred  members  of  the  Joanelll,  a 
brotherhood  formed  for  certain  exercises  of 
piety,  swore  upon  the  altar  to  destroy  Pale- 
ario. Not  confining  themselves  to  attacks  upon 
his  teaching,  Cotta  and  his  other  adversaries 
began  to  pry  Into  his  private  life,  to  watch  all 
his   movements   and   to  catch   up   every  word. 


l68  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

They  soon  found  fresh  subjects  of  complaint 
against  him.  Paleario  had  ridiculed  a  wealthy 
priest  who  was  to  be  seen  every  morning  de- 
voutly kneeling  before  the  shrine  of  a  saint, 
but  who  refused  to  pay  his  debts ;  and  the  keen 
irony  with  which  he  had  spoken  of  him  had 
occasioned  a  great  scandal  among  the  clergy. 
That,  however,  was  not  enough ;  they  must 
have  a  palpable  mark  of  heresy.  His  adver- 
saries endeavored,  therefore,  to  entrap  him, 
and  some  of  them,  presenting  themselves  as 
if  they  wanted  to  be  instructed,  put  questions 
to  him  calculated  to  lead  him  into  the  snare. 
"  What,"  they  asked,  "  is  the  first  means  of  sal- 
vation given  by  God  to  man?"  He  answered, 
"  Christ!'  That  might  pass,  but  continuing  their 
questions,  Paleario's  enemies  added,  '*  What  is 
the  second  ?"  In  their  opinion,  he  should  have 
indicated  meritorious  works  ;  but  Paleario  re- 
plied, "  Christ!'  Continuing  their  inquiry,  they 
said,  "And  what  is  the  third?"  They  thought 
that  Paleario  should  answer,  "The  Church;  out 
of  the  Church  there  is  no  salvation  ;"  but  he  still 
replied,  "  Christ!' 

From  that  moment  he  was  a  lost  man.  The 
monks  and  their  friends  reported  to  Cotta  the 
answer  which  they  deemed  so  heretical. 

Paleario  had  no  suspicion  of  danger.  Car- 
dinal Sadolet  and  some  other  friends  invited 
him  to .  come  and   see  them  at  Rome,  and  he 


AONIO   PALE  A  RIO.  1 69 

went.  He  had  not  been  there  long  before  he 
received  a  very  excited  letter  from  Faustus 
Bellantes.  "  There  is  a  great  agitation  in  the 
city,"  he  said ;  "  an  astounding  conspiracy  has 
been  formed  against  you  by  the  most  criminal 
of  men.  We  do  not  know  upon  what  the 
accusation  is  founded ;  we  are  ignorant  of 
the  names  of  your  adversaries.  The  report 
runs  that  the  chiefs  of  the  state  have  been 
excited  against  you  in  consequence  of  calum- 
nious charges  concerning  religion.  It  is  said 
that  some  wretched  monks  have  sworn  your 
ruin,  but  the  plot  must  have  deeper  roots.  I 
shall  go  to  Sienna  to-morrow,  and  shall  speak 
to  my  friends  and  relations  about  it.  I  am 
ready  for  everything,  even  to  lose  my  life,  in 
your  defence.  Meantime,  I  conjure  you,  let 
your  mind  be  at  peace." 

Bellantes  was  not  deceived.  Cotta,  with- 
out loss  of  time,  appeared  in  the  senate  and 
reported  to  his  colleagues  the  monstrous  lan- 
guage of  Paleario,  and  exclaimed  that  if  they 
suffered  him  to  live  "  there  would  be  no  vestige 
of  religion  left  in  the  city."  Every  man  was 
silent:  such  was  the  alarm  caused  by  a  charge 
of  heresy  that  no  one  dared  take  up  the  de- 
fence of  the  courageous  Christian. 

Paleario  heard  of  this,  and  was  distressed, 
but  not  surprised.  One  truth  was  deeply  en- 
graved in   his  heart:    xA.ll   power  of   salvation 


170  MAKTYKS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

is  given  to  Jesus  Christ;  he  is  the  only  source 
whence  the  new  Hfe  can  be  drawn.  It  seemed 
to  him  that  the  priests  had  forged  so  many 
means  of  acquiring  pardon  that  they  hardly 
left  Christ  the  hundredth  part.  He  could  well 
understand  how  irritated  the  clergy  must  be 
against  a  man  who  set  so  little  store  by  all 
their  paltry  contrivances  ;  but,  although  he  saw 
clearly  the  danger  that  threatened  him,  he  re- 
mained firm.  "  The  power  of  the  conspirators 
is  immense,"  he  said;  "the  more  fiercely  a  man 
attacks  me,  the  more  pious  he  is  reckoned.  But 
what  matters  it  ?  Jesus  Christ,  whom  I  have 
always  sincerely  and  religiously  adored,  is  my 
hope.  ...  I  despise  the  cabals  of  men,  and  my 
heart  is  full  of  courage."  Christ  was  his  King. 
He  knew  that  that  great  Sovereign,  who  is 
achieving  the  conquest  of  the  world,  preserves 
at  the  same  time  all  those  who  have  found 
reconciliation  with  God  through  him. 

His  wife  was  not  so  calm.  Marietta,  his 
virtuous  and  devoted  partner,  so  ardent  in 
her  affection,  was  filled  with  uneasiness  and 
trouble ;  her  imagination  called  up  before  her 
not  only  the  misfortunes  of  the  moment,  but 
also  those  of  the  future ;  she  was  the  most 
unhappy  of  women.  Her  agony  was  greater 
than  her  strength ;  she  passed  whole  days  in 
tears.  Distressed  and  exhausted,  she  lost  her 
health,   and   every  one  might  see  in   her  face 


AONIO  PA  LEA  RIO.  I71 

the  sorrow  which  was  consuming  her.  When 
her  husband  heard  of  this  at  Rome,  he  was 
heartbroken,  and  conjured  his  mother  and  Bel- 
lantes  to  visit  Marietta  in  order  to  distract  the 
afflicted  wife  from  her  sorrow. 

Paleario  would  have  desired  to  hasten  to 
her  in  person  and  confront  his  accusers,  but 
his  friends  at  Sienna  and  at  Rome  aHke  dis- 
suaded him.  The  citizens  who  were  then  at 
the  head  of  the  state  were  violent  men,  of 
no  morality,  and  as  ready  to  condemn  the  in- 
nocent as  to  acquit  the  guilty.  It  was  hoped 
that  a  new  election  would  bring  upright  men 
Into  power:  they  conjured  Paleario  to  wait; 
and  he  did  so.  But  there  was  no  chano-e : 
the  denunciations,  charges  and  murmurs  only 
increased.  The  enemies  of  the  gospel  attack- 
ed not  merely  Paleario,  but  the  Reformers,  the 
Gein7ians,  as  they  said :  they  tried  to  Involve  all 
the  friends  of  the  Bible,  both  German  and  Ital- 
ian, in  the  same  condemnation.  At  last,  what 
had  been  hoped  for  came  to  pass :  an  import- 
ant change  took  place  in  the  government  of 
the  republic ;  order  and  liberty  were  restored. 
Paleario  thought  he  could  no  longer  remain 
away ;  he  left  Rome  and  joined  his  family  at 
his  country-house  near  Colle. 

As  soon  as  his  adversaries  were  Informed  of 
his  return  they  laid  a  charge  of  heresy  before 
the  senate  of  Sienna  and  the  court  of  Rome. 


172  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

Determined  to  employ  all  means  to  destroy 
Paleario,  they  resolved  to  constrain  the  eccle- 
siastical authority  to  go  along  with  them  by  the 
strong  pressure  they  would  bring  to  bear  upon 
it.  With  this  intent,  twelve  of  them  met,  and, 
bent  on  prevailing  upon  the  archbishop  to  de- 
mand that  Paleario  should  be  put  upon  his  trial, 
they  marched  through  the  streets  of  the  city 
to  the  prelate's  palace.  In  this  excited  band 
there  was  the  senator  Cotta  with  five  others, 
distinguished  among  whom  was  Alexis  Lucri- 
nas,  an  impetuous  and  foolish  man ;  then  three 
priests,  people  of  little  importance,  but  very  vio- 
lent, grossly  ignorant  and  untiring  babblers ; 
and  lastly,  three  monks.  The  archbishop  hap- 
pened just  then  to  be  at  his  villa  in  the  suburbs 
for  the  sake  of  the  purer  air ;  the  delegates 
went  there  after  him,  accompanying  their  march 
with  such  shouting,  threats  and  disputes  that 
the  women,  attracted  by  the  unusual  noise,  ran 
to  the  windows,  fancying  they  were  taking  some 
criminal  to  punishment.  Some  of  the  conspir- 
ators said,  "  The  witnesses  will  be  heard,  the 
motives  of  his  condemnation  will  be  declared, 
and  then  Paleario  will  be  thrown  into  the  fire ;" 
but  others  wanted  to  proceed  more  quickly,  so 
that  the  punishment  should  follow  immediately 
upon  the  statement  of  the  offence,  without  any 
form  of  trial  and  without  permitting  the  accused 
to  be  heard. 


AONIO    PA  LEA  RIO.  1 73 

Archbishop  Francesco  Bandini,  of  the  ilhis- 
trious  house  of  Piccolomini,  was  a  friend  of 
letters,  and  consequendy  of  Paleario.  It  was 
afternoon;  the  prelate,  who  was  taking  his 
siesta,  being  awoke  by  the  noise,  called  a  ser- 
vant and  asked  him  who  were  vociferating  in 
that  manner.  Being  informed  that  they  were 
men  of  consideration,  he  ordered  them  to  be 
admitted.  He  rose  from  his  couch,  took  his  seat 
and  waited  for  the  strange  deputation.  They 
entered.  Lucrinas,  who  had  been  sometimes 
invited  to  his  lordship's  table,  was  full  of  con- 
fidence in  himself,  and  accordingly  had  begged 
that  they  would  allow  him  to  speak.  Looking 
round  him  with  a  satisfied  and  boasting  air,  he 
began  to  pour  out  against  Paleario  a  long 
string  of  insults  and  maledictions  in  a  passion- 
ate tone. 

The  bishop,  a  wise  and  grave  man,  had  some 
difficulty  in  containing  himself,  and  said  that  the 
whole  proceeding  appeared  to  him  full  of  levity. 
"There  can  be  no  question  of  levity,"  impu- 
dently exclaimed  Lucrinas,  "  when  three  hun- 
dred citizens  are  ready  to  sign  the  accusation." 
— "And  I  could  produce  six  hundred  witnesses," 
rejoined  the  prelate,  "  who  have  sworn  that  you 
are  a  merciless  usurer.  I  did  not,  however, 
give  effect  to  their  denunciation.  Did  I  do 
well  or  ill  ?  tell  me."  The  poor  wretch  was 
silent;  the  fact  was  too  notorious  to  be  denied 


1/4  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

and  too  scandalous  to  be  confessed.  But  his 
companions  were  not  to  be  put  out  by  such  a 
trifle  ;  they  explained  the  motives  of  their  pros- 
ecution, threw  themselves  at  the  prelate's  feet, 
and  conjured  him  in  the  name  of  religion  to  sup- 
port the  charge  against  Paleario.  The  arch- 
bishop, considering  that  it  was  a  question  of 
heresy,  thought  it  a  matter  for  the  courts  to 
decide,  and  consented  to  their  prayer. 

Paleario's  enemies  set  to  work  immediately ; 
they  endeavored  to  prejudice  the  most  notable 
persons  in  Sienna  against  him,  and  picked  out 
individuals  from  among  the  populace  who  were 
without  lieht  and  without  conscience  whom 
they  induced  to  testify  before  the  court  to 
things  of  which  they  knew  nothing.  It  was  in 
vain  that  the  famous  Sadolet,  summoned  to 
Rome  by  the  pope,  stopped  at  Sienna  and  un- 
dertook Paleario's  defence.  It  was  in  vain  that 
the  cardinal,  the  archbishop  and  Paleario  had  a 
consultation  in  which  Sadolet  commended  the 
accused  to  the  archbishop  and  gave  touching 
proofs  of  his  esteem  and  affection  for  him  :  the 
conspirators  were  able  to  turn  the  interview 
against  the  man  whom  they  had  sworn  to  sac- 
rifice to  their  hatred.  A  number  of  people  who 
had  assembled  in  the  public  square  began  to 
talk  about  the  conference.  ''When  Paleario  was 
accused  by  the  prelate,"  said  some,  "  he  was 
silent  throuorh  shame." — "  No,"  said  the  others, 


AON/0   PA  LEA  mo.  1/5 

"  he  answered,  but  was  sharply  reprimanded  by 
Sadolet."  Impatient  to  see  their  victim  handed 
over  to  death,  happy  at  having  already  caused 
doubt  in  the  mind  of  the  archbishop,  and  imagin- 
ing they  had  convinced  Sfondrati,  the  president 
of  the  republic,  and  Crasso,  the  praetor,  they  ob- 
tained an  order  for  Paleario  to  be  summoned 
before  the  senate  on  a  charge  of  heresy. 

That  innocent  and  just  man  was  not  blind  to 
the  danger  and  difficulty  of  his  position.  He 
felt  that  the  calumnies  of  his  enemies  would 
check  the  good  he  hoped  to  do,  would  break 
up  old  friendships  and  destroy  the  peace  that 
the  city  was  beginning  to  enjoy.  Ere  long, 
perhaps,  his  wife  would  be  a  widow  and  his 
children  orphans :  a  veil  of  sadness  covered 
his  face.  Oh  how  bitter  was  such  a  trial !  He 
knew  full  well  that  afflictions  awaken  heavenly 
life  in  the  Christian — that  it  is  a  privilege  of  the 
child  of  God ;  but  he  was  for  some  time  without 
comfort,  and  his  soul  was  bowed  down.  "  My 
adversaries,"  he  said,  "  heap  wrong  upon  wrong, 
hatred  upon  hatred :  they  have  done  nothing 
else  these  six  months.  Has  there  ever  been  a 
man  saintly  enough  not  to  give  way  under  the 
attacks  of  such  perverse  zeal  ?  I  will  not  speak 
of  Socrates,  Scipio,  Rutilius  or  Metellus  ;  certain 
failings  might  have  laid  them  open  to  the  attacks 
of  their  enemies.  But  even  He  than  whom  none 
was  so  good,  none  so  holy,  even  the  all-innocent 


1/6  A/A/^ TV/as   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

Jesus  Christ  himself,  was  assailed  on  every  side. 
Alas  !  where  can  the  righteous  man  turn  ?  whom 
can  he  implore  ?" 

Paleario  soon  learned  to  answer  this.  When 
he  found  himself  summoned  to  appear  before 
the  senate,  his  courage  revived.  He  was  not 
only  strong  in  his  innocence,  but  the  faith 
which  inspired  his  heart  told  him  that  God 
loves  his  servants  and  that  with  him  they  are 
free  from  every  danger.  He  went  to  the  pal- 
ace of  the  signiory,  and  entered  the  hall  leaning 
on  the^arm  of  the  youthful  Faustus  Bellantes, 
son  of  his  old  friend,  accompanied  by  some 
faithful  men  who  were  unwilling  to  forsake 
him  in  the  day  of  his  distress.  He  stood  in 
the  presence  of  those  who  held  his  life  in 
their  hands.  Sfondrati  the  president,  Crasso 
the  praetor,  the  senate  and  the  Nine  were 
seated  in  their  judicial  chairs.  His  adversa- 
ries were  there  also — Cotta  especially,  full  of 
presumptuous  assurance,  and  feeling  certain 
that  the  time  had  come  at  last  when  he  could 
fall  upon  his  prey.  Paleario  recognized  him  ; 
he  was  agitated  and  indignant  at  seeing  him 
quiedy  taking  his  seat  in  the  senate  at  the 
very  time  he  was  bent  on  carrying  out  an 
infamous  plot.  He  contained  himself,  however, 
and,  first  addressing  the  senators,  to  whom  he 
gave  the  tide  employed  in  ancient  Rome,  he 
said:    "Conscript    fathers,    when    there   was    a 


AONIO   PA  LEA  RIO.  1 7/ 

talk  about  me  In  former  years  I  was  not 
seriously  moved' by  it:  the  times  were  times 
of  desolation ;  all  human  and  divine  rights 
were  confounded  in  the  same  disorder.  But 
now,  when,  by  the  goodness  of  God,  men 
of  wisdom  have  been  placed  at  the  head  of 
the  republic,  when  the  sap  and  the  blood  cir- 
culate afresh  through  the  state,  why  should  I 
not  lift  up  my  head  ?" 

By  degrees  Paleario  grew  warm ;  his  eyes 
fell  again  upon  his  insolent  enemy,  whom  he 
apostrophized  as  Cicero  did  Catiline.  '',  Cotta, 
you  wicked,  arrogant,  and  factious  man !"  he 
said,  "  who  practice  not  that  religion  in  which 
God  is  worshiped  in  spirit  and  in  truth,  but  that 
which  plunges  into  every  superstition^  because 
it  is  the  best  adapted  to  impose  upon  man- 
kind,— Cotta,  you  imagine  you  are  a  Christian, 
because  you  bear  the  image  of  Christ  upon 
your  purple  robe,  while  by  your  calumnies  you 
are  crushing  an  innocent  man,  who  is  also  an 
image,  a  living  image,  of  Jesus  Christ.  When 
you  accused  me  falsely  of  a  crime,  did  you  obey 
Jesus  Christ  ?  When  you  went  to  the  house 
of  the  Nine  to  utter  falsehoods  against  me, 
did  you  think,  Cotta,  you  were  making  a  pil- 
grimage to  Jerusalem  ?  I  am  surprised  that 
you  do  not  crucify  innocent  persons.  .  .  .  You 
would  do  it — yes,  you  would  do  it,  if  you  could 
do  all  that  your  pride  suggests." 

12 


178  MARIYKS    OF    THE    KK FURMATlOxY. 

Paleario  then  passed  on  to  a  more  Important 
subject.  In  attacking  him  his  adversaries  really 
attacked  the  gospel,  the  Reformation  and  those 
excellent  men  whom  God  was  making  use  of  to 
transform  Christian  society.  Paleario  defended 
the  Reformers  in  the  presence  of  all  Italy. 

"  You  bring  impudent  reproaches  against  me, 
Cotta,"  he  continued ;  "  you  assert  that  I  think 
wrongly  on  religious  matters,  that  I  am  falling 
into  heresy,  and  you  accuse  me  of  having  adopt- 
ed the  opinions  of  the  Germans.  What  a  pal- 
try accusation  !  Do  you  pretend  to  bind  all  the 
Germans  in  the  same  bundle?  Are  all  the  Ger- 
mans bad  ?  Do  you  not  know  that  the  august 
emperor  is  a  German  ?  Will  you  say  that  you 
mean  only  the  theologians  ?  W^hat  noble  theo- 
logians there  are  in  Germany !  But,  though 
your  accusations  are  unmeaning  in  appearance^ 
there  is  a  sting  lying  under  them.  I  know  the 
venom  they  contain.  .  .  .  The  Germaris  that 
you  mean  are  CEcolampadius,  Erasmus,  Me- 
lanchthon,  Luther,  Pomeranus,  Bucer  and  their 
friends.  But  is  there  a  single  theologian  in 
Italy  so  stupid  as  not  to  know  that  there  are 
many  things  worthy  of  praise  in  the  works 
of  those  doctors  ?  .  .  .  Exact,  sincere,  earnest, 
they  have  professed  the  truths  which  we  find 
set  forth  by  the  early  Fathers.  To  accuse  the 
Germans  is  to  accuse  Origen,  Chrysostom, 
Cyrillus,   Irenaeus,   Hilary,   Augustine   and   Je- 


AONIO    PA  LEA  RIO.  1/9 

rome.  If  I  purpose  imitating  those  illustrious 
doctors  of  Christian  antiquity,  why  repeat  per- 
petually that  I  think  like  the  Germans?  What ! 
because  the  learned  professors  of  the  German 
schools  have  followed  the  footsteps  of  those 
holy  men  of  the  first  centuries,  may  not  I 
follow  them  also  ?  You  would  like  me  to 
imitate  the  folly  of  those  who,  to  obtain  good 
preferments,  fight  against  even  that  which  Is 
good  in  Germany.  .  .  .  Ah !  conscript  fath- 
ers, rather  than  strive  after  those  delights  which 
lead  many  astray,  I  prefer  to  live  honestly.  My 
circumstances  may  be  narrow,  but  my  conscience 
is  at  liberty.  Let  those  vile  flatterers  sit  on  the 
doctor's  seat  or  the  bishop's  throne,  let  them 
put  mitres  or  tiaras  on  their  heads,  let  them 
wear  the  purple.  .  .  .  Not  so  for  me;  I  will 
remain  in  my  library,  sitting  on  a  wooden  stool, 
wearing  a  woolen  garment  against  the  cold,  a 
linen  garment  in  the  heat,  and  with  onlv  a  little 
bed  on  which  to  taste  the  repose  of  sleep. 

"  But,  Gotta,  you  still  continue  your  attacks  ; 
you  reproach  me  for  praising  all  the  Germans 
say  and  do.  No  ;  there  are  some  things  I  ap- 
prove of  in  them,  and  others  that  I  do  not. 
When  I  meet  with  thoughts  which  for  ages 
have  been  obscured  by  a  barbarous  style,  hid- 
den under  the  brambles  of  scholasticism  and 
sunk  Into  the  deepest  darkness, — when  I  see 
these  brought  into  the  full  light  of  day,  placed 


IISO  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

within  the  reach  of  all  and  expressed  in  the 
choicest  Latinity,  I  not  only  praise  the  Ger- 
mans, but  I  heartily  thank  them.  Sacred  studies 
had  fallen  asleep  in  convent-cells,  where  the 
idle  men  who  should  have  cultivated  them  had 
hidden  themselves  as  if  in  gloomy  forests  un- 
der the  pretence  of  applying  to  work.  But 
what  happened  ?  They  snored  so  loud  that 
we  could  hear  them  in  our  cities  and  towns. 
Now,  learning  has  been  restored  to  us ;  Latin, 
Greek  and  Chaldee  libraries  have  been  formed  ; 
assistance  has  been  honorably  extended  to  the 
theologians ;  precious  books  have  been  multi- 
plied by  means  of  the  wonderful  invention  of 
printing.  Can  there  be  anything  more  strik- 
ing, more  glorious  or  more  deserving  our  eter- 
nal gratitude  ?" 

After  this  defence  of  the  literary  and  re- 
forming movement  of  Germany,  Paleario  came 
to  what  is  grander  than  all — to  Christ.  "  Are 
they  not  insufferable  men,"  he  said,  "nay,  wick- 
ed men,  before  whom  we  dare  not  praise  the 
God  of  our  salvation,  Jesus  Christ,  the  King 
of  all  nations,  by  whose  death  such  precious 
boons  have  been  conferred  upon  the  human 
race?  And  yet  for  this,  conscript  fathers- 
yes,  for  this  I  am  reproached  in  the  accusation 
brought  against  me.  On  the  authority  of  the 
most  ancient  and  most  faithful  documents  I 
had    declared    that    the    end    of    all    evils    had 


AONIO   PALEARIO.  l8l 

arrived,  that  all  condemnation  was  done  away 
with  for  those  who,  being  converted  to  Christ 
crucified,  trust  in  him  with  perfect  confidence. 
These  are  the  things  that  appeared  detestable 
to  those  twelve —  Shall  I  say  to  those  twelve 
me7i  or  twelve  wild  beasts,  who  desire  that  the 
man  who  wrote  these  things  should  be  thrown 
into  the  fire  ?  If  I  must  suffer  that  penalty 
for  the  testimony  I  have  borne  to  the  Son  of 
God,  believe  me  that  no  happier  fate  could 
befall  me ;  in  truth,  I  do  not  think  that  a 
Christian  in  our  times  ought  to  die  in  his 
bed.  Ah  !  conscript  fathers,  to  be  accused 
and  cast  into  prison  is  a  trifle  ;  to  be  scourg- 
ed, to  be  hanged,  to  be  sewn  up  in  a  sack,  to 
be  thrown  to  wild  beasts,  to  be  consumed  by 
fire, — all  these  are  trifles  if  only  by  such  pun- 
ishments truth  is  brought  into  the  light  of 
day." 

Aonio  Paleario  did  not  speak  as  a  rhetori- 
cian ;  he  was  no  maker  of  Ciceronian  periods. 
The  man  who  at  this  time  professed  so  ener- 
getically the  supreme  importance  of  truth,  and 
did  so  again  in  his  Beneficio  di  Gesu  Chdsto  cro- 
cifisso^  gave  his  life  for  it.  If  he  spoke  at  Sienna, 
he  was  to  act  at  Rome.  In  each  of  these  phases 
we  recognize  the  noble  victim  of  1570. 

After  speaking  like  a  martyr  he  spoke  like  a 

*  The  Benefit  of  Christ'' s  Death  :  Presbyterian  Board  of  Publication, 
Philadelphia. 


1 83  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

man.  He  looked  round  him  :  some  of  the  most 
eminent  citizens,  the  Tancredis,  the  Placidis, 
the  Malevoltas,  were  near  him  full  of  emotion. 
Egidio,  superior  of  the  Augustines,  and  his 
monks,  men  abounding  in  piety  and  modesty, 
strengthened  him  by  their  approbation  and 
their  prayers.  His  two  young  friends,  Faus- 
tus  and  Evander  Bellantes,  keeping  their  eyes 
fixed  upon  him,  could  not  restrain  their  tears. 
Presently  a  more  moving  sight  met  his  eyes  ; 
he  beheld  Marietta,  pale  and  weeping.  "  What 
do  I  see  ?"  he  exclaimed.  ''  Thou  also,  my  wife, 
art  thou  come  dressed  in  mourning  weeds,  ac- 
companied by  the  noblest  and  most  pious  of 
women, — art  thou  come  with  thy  children,  to 
throw  thyself  at  the  feet  of  the  senators?  O 
my  light!  my  life  !  my  soul !  return  home,  train 
up  our  children !  Do  not  be  afraid  ;  Christ  who 
is  thy  spouse  will  be  their  father.  .  .  .  Alas  ! 
she  is  half  killed  with  grief.  O  mother !  sup- 
port her,  take  her  away ;  take  her  to  your  own 
home,  if  you  can,  and  let  your  love  dry  up  her 
tears." 

The  impression  produced  by  this  address  was 
so  profound  that  the  senate  declared  Paleario 
innocent.  But  such  a  striking  triumph  served 
only  to  enrage  his  enemies  the  more ;  he  saw 
that  he  could  not  remain  at  Sienna,  and  there- 
fore took  leave  of  his  friends.  Bellantes  on 
his  deathbed   had  commended  his  children   to 


AONIO   PALE  A  RIO.  1 83 

him,  and  Paleario  exhorted  them  to  aspire  to 
something  great.  It  Is  probable  that  he  went 
to  Rome  for  a  short  time,  where  his  friends  had 
got  the  proceedings  set  aside  which  his  enemies 
had  commenced  against  him,  and  afterward  to 
Lucca,'''  where  the  chair  of  eloquence  was  giv- 
en him. 

Thus  far  D'Aubigne.  From  Aoiiio  Paleario 
and  his  Friends'\  we  learn  that  his  task  at  Luc- 
ca was  to  make  speeches  to  arouse  the  citizens 
to  deeds  of  virtue  and  patriotism — to  be  what 
the  press  is  to  us,  an  agency  in  forming  public 
opinion.  After  a  year  thus  spent  Paleario  was 
joined  by  his  family.  When  invited  to  visit 
Rome,  he  wrote :  "  I  have  no  desire  to  go  to 
Rome.  I  cannot  express  the  disgust  I  feel  at 
the  pomp  of  the  Roman  court,  and  how  ex- 
tremely I  dislike  those  who  despise  both  God 
and  man  and  live  such  lawless  lives." 

At  a  later  date  we  find  him  dangerously  ill 
at  Lucca.  After  his  recovery  he  prepared  to 
leave  that  city,  borne  down  by  cares  and  appre- 
hensions of  persecution,  and  retired  to  the  quiet 
town  of  Colle,  where  a  house  is  still  pointed 
out  as  that  in  which  he  lived.  But  he  was  call- 
ed from  his  retirement  to  take  the  chair  of  elo- 


*  In  the  year  1546. 

f  By  the  Rev.  William  M.  Blackburn,  D.  D. :  Presbyterian  Board  of 
Publication. 


l84  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

quence  in  Milan  about  the  year  1556.  While 
here  he  kept  up  a  lively  correspondence  with 
the  Reformers  at  Basle,  envying  them  their  free- 
dom from  the  watchful  eyes  and  the  power  of  the 
Inquisition,  for  the  demand  for  the  lives  of  here- 
tics was  again  raised,  and  Carnessechi  had  been 
beheaded  and  burned.  It  was  made  a  crime  to 
read  The  Benefit  of  Christ,  and  the  author  had 
reason  to  fear.  But  he  did  not  draw  back.  He 
wrote :  "  I,  Aonio,  servant  of  Jesus  Christ,  here 
depose  a  firm  testimony  that,  if  necessary,  I  do 
not  refuse  to  die  for  that  faith  which  I  owe  to 
Christ  as  the  Author  of  my  peace  and  salva- 
tion." The  venerable  man  was  accused  of 
heresy,  was  imprisoned  in  Rome,  probably  for 
three  years,  and  on  July  3,  1570,  was  hanged 
and  burned,  adding  another  to  the  long  list  of 
Rome's  crimes  acrainst  Christ  and  his  Church. 
But  Aonio  Paleario's  words  in  The  Benefit  of 
Chrisfs  Death  live  on  earth,  as  his  spirit  lives 
in  the  mansions  of  the  just.  Rome  could  not 
destroy  the  martyr's  soul  or  words. 


XXII. 
WILLIAM  TYNDALE, 

A.  D.  1526. 

Along  the  banks  of  the  Severn  extends  a 
picturesque  country  bounded  by  the  Forest  of 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  1 85 

Dean  and  sprinkled  with  villages,  steeples  and 
ancient  castles.  In  the  sixteenth  century  it  was 
particularly  admired  by  priests  and  friars,  and  a 
familiar  oath  among  them  was,  *'As  sure  as 
God's  in  Glo'ster!"  The  papal  birds  of  prey 
had  swooped  upon  it.  For  fifty  years,  from 
1484  to  1534,  four  Italian  bishops,  placed  in 
succession  over  the  diocese,  had  surrendered 
it  to  the  pope,  to  the  monks  and  to  immorality. 
Thieves  in  particular  were  the  objects  of  the 
tenderest  favors  of  the  hierarchy.  John  de 
Giglis,  collector  of  the  apostolical  chamber, 
had  received  from  the  sovereign  pontiff  author- 
ity to  pardon  murder  and  theft  on  condition 
that  the  criminal  shared  his  profits  with  the 
pontifical   commissioners. 

In  this  valley,  at  the  foot  of  Stinchcomb  Hill, 
to  the  south-west  of  Gloucester,  there  dwelt, 
during  the  latter  half  of  the  fifteenth  century, 
a  family  which  had  taken  refuge  there  during  the 
wars  of  the  Roses  and  assumed  the  name  of 
Hutchins.  In  the  reign  of  Henry  VII.,  the  Lan- 
castrian party  having  the  upper  hand,  they  re- 
sumed their  name  of  Tyndale,  which  had  been 
borne  of  yore  by  many  noble  barons.  In  1484, 
about  a  year  after  the  birth  of  Luther,  and  about 
the  time  that  Zwinorle  first  saw  liorfit  in  the  moun- 

o  o 

tains  of  the  Tockenburg,  these  partisans  of  the 
Red  Rose  were  blessed  with  a  son,  whom  they 
called  William.     His  youth  was  passed  in  the 


1 86  MARTYRS   OF   THE  REFORMATION. 

fields  surrounding  his  native  village  of  North 
Nibley,  beneath  the  shadows  of  Berkeley  Cas- 
tle or  beside  the  rapid  waters  of  the  Severn,  and 
in  the  midst  of  friars  and  pontifical  collectors. 
He  was  sent  very  early  to  Oxford,  where  he 
learned  grammar  and  philosophy  in  the  school 
of  St.  Mary  Magdalene,  adjoining  the  college 
of  that  name.  He  made  rapid  progress,  particu- 
larly in  languages,  under  the  first  classical  schol- 
ars in  England — Grocyn,  W.  Latimer  and  Lin- 
acre — and  took  his  detrrees.  A  more  excellent 
master  than  these  doctors,  the  Holy  Spirit  speak- 
ing in  Scripture,  was  soon  to  teach  him  a  science 
which  it  is  not  in  the  power  of  man  to  impart. 

Oxford,  where  Erasmus  had  so  many  friends, 
was  the  city  in  which  his  New  Testament  met 
with  the  warmest  welcome.  The  young  Glou- 
cestershire student,  inwardly  impelled  toward 
the  study  of  sacred  literature,  read  the  cele- 
brated book  which  was  then  attracting  the  at- 
tention of  Christendom.  At  first  he  regarded 
it  only  as  a  work  of  learning,  or  at  most  as  a 
manual  of  piety,  whose  beauties  were  calcu- 
lated to  excite  religious  feelings  ;  but  ere  long 
he  found  it  to  be  something  more.  The  more 
he  read  it,  the  more  was  he  struck  by  the  truth 
and  energy  of  the  word.  This  strange  book 
spoke  to  him  of  God,  of  Christ  and  of  regen- 
eration with  a  simplicity  and  authority  which 
completely  subdued   him.     William  had   found 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  I  8/ 

a  master  whom  he  had  not  sought  at  Oxford  ; 
this  was  God  himself.  The  pages  he  held  in 
his    hand  were   the    divine  revelation   so   lone 

o 

mislaid.  Possessing  a  noble  soul,  a  bold  spirit 
and  indefatigable  activity,  he  did  not  keep  this 
treasure  to  himself  He  uttered  that  cry,  more 
suited  to  a  Christian  than  to  Archimedes — 
eupr^xa,  "I  have  found  it!"  It  was  not  long  be- 
fore several  of  the  younger  members  of  the 
university,  attracted  by  the  purity  of  his  life 
and  the  charms  of  his  conversation,  gathered 
round  him,  and  read  with  him  the  Greek  and 
Latin  Gospels  of  Erasmus.  "A  certain  well- 
informed  young  man,"  wrote  Erasmus  in  a  let- 
ter wherein  he  speaks  of  the  publication  of  his 
New  Testament,  "  began  to  lecture  with  suc- 
cess on  Greek  literature  at  Oxford."  He  was 
probably  speaking  of  Tyndale. 

The  monks  took  the  alarm.  "A  barbarian," 
continues  Erasmus,  "  entered  the  pulpit  and  vio- 
lently abused  the  Greek  language." — '*  These 
folk,"  said  Tyndale,  ''  wished  to  extinguish  the 
light  which  exposed  their  trickery,  and  they 
have  been  laying  their  plans  these  dozen 
years."  This  observation  was  made  in  1531, 
and  refers,  therefore,  to  the  proceedings  of 
1 51 7.  Germany  and  England  were  begin- 
ning the  struggle  at  nearly  the  same  time,  and 
Oxford  perhaps  before  Wittemberg.  Tyndale, 
bearing   in    mind   the  injunction,   ''When   they 


l88  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

persecute  you  in  one  city,  flee  ye  into  another," 
left  Oxford  and  proceeded  to  Cambridge.  It 
must  needs  be  that  souls  whom  God  has  brought 
to  his  knowledge  should  meet  and  enlighten 
one  another :  live  coals,  when  separated,  go 
out;  when  gathered  together  they  brighten 
up,  so  as  even  to  purify  silver  and  gold.  The 
Romish  hierarchy,  not  knowing  what  they  did, 
were  collecting  the  scattered  brands  of  the 
Reformation. 

Bilney  was  not  inactive  at  Cambridge.  Not 
long  had  the  "sublime  lesson  of  Jesus  Christ" 
filled  him  with  joy  before  he  fell  on  his  knees 
and  exclaimed,  "  O  Thou  who  art  the  truth ! 
give  me  strength  that  I  may  teach  it,  and  con- 
vert the  ungodly  by  means  of  one  who  has 
been  ungodly  himself"  After  this  prayer  his 
eyes  gleamed  with  new  fire ;  he  had  assembled 
his  friends,  and  opening  Erasmus's  Testament, 
had  placed  his  finger  on  the  words  that  had 
reached  his  soul,  and  these  words  had  touched 
many.  The  arrival  of  Tyndale  gave  him  fresh 
courage,  and  the  light  burnt  brighter  in  Cam- 
bridge. 

John  Fryth,  a  young  man  of  eighteen,  the  son 
of  an  innkeeper  of  Sevenoaks  in  Kent,  was  dis- 
tinguished among  the  students  of  King's  Col- 
lege by  the  promptitude  of  his  understanding 
and  the  integrity  of  his  life.  He  was  as  deep- 
ly read  in  the  mathematics  as  Tyndale  in  the 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  1 89 

classics  and  Bilney  in  canon  law.  Although 
of  an  exact  turn  of  mind,  yet  his  soul  was  ele- 
vated, and  he  recognized  in  Holy  Scripture  a 
learning  of  a  new  kind.  "  These  things  are  not 
demonstrated  like  a  proposition  of  Euclid,"  he 
said ;  "  mere  study  is  sufficient  to  impress  the 
theories  of  mathematics  on  our  minds  ;  but  this 
science  of  God  meets  with  a  resistance  in  man 
that  necessitates  the  intervention  of  a  divine 
power.  Christianity  is  a  regeneration."  The 
heavenly  seed  soon  grew  up  in  Fryth's  heart. 

These  three  young  scholars  set  to  work  with 
enthusiasm.  They  declared  that  neither  priest- 
ly absolution  nor  any  other  religious  rite  could 
give  remission  of  sins,  that  the  assurance  of 
pardon  is  obtained  by  faith  alone,  and  that  faith 
purifies  the  heart.  Then  they  addressed  to  all 
men  that  saying  of  Christ's  at  which  the  monks 
were  so  offended :  "  Repent  and  be  converted." 

Ideas  so  new  produced  a  great  clamor.  A 
famous  orator  undertook  one  day  at  Cambridge 
to  show  that  it  was  useless  to  preach  conver- 
sion to  the  sinner.  "  Thou  who  for  sixty  years 
past,"  said  he,  "  hast  wallowed  in  thy  lusts  like 
a  sow  in  her  mire,  dost  thou  think  that  thou 
canst  in  one  year  take  as  many  steps  toward 
heaven,  and  that  in  thine  age,  as  thou  hast  done 
toward  hell  ?"  Bilney  left  the  church  with  in- 
dignation. "Is  that  preaching  repentance  in 
the    name   of  Jesus?"   he   asked.     "Does   not 


190  MARTYRS  OF   THE    REFORMATION. 

this  priest  tell  us,  '  Christ  will  not  save  thee '  ? 
Alas !  for  so  many  years  that  this  deadly  doc- 
trine has  been  taught  in  Christendom  not  one 
man  has  dared  open  his  mouth  against  it." 
Many  of  the  Cambridge  fellows  were  scandal- 
ized at  Bilney's  language :  was  not  the  preach- 
er whose  teaching  he  condemned  duly  ordained 
by  the  bishop?  He  replied,  ''What  would  be 
the  use  of  being  a  hundred  times  consecrated, 
were  it  even  by  a  thousand  papal  bulls,  if  the 
inward  calling  is  wanting?  To  no  purpose 
hath  the  bishop  breathed  on  our  heads  if  we 
have  never  felt  the  breath  of  the  Holy  Ghost 
in  our  hearts."  Thus,  at  the  very  beginning 
of  the  Reformation,  England,  rejecting  the 
Romish  superstitions,  discerned  with  extreme 
nicety  what  constitutes  the  essence  of  conse- 
cration to  the  service  of  the  Lord. 

After  pronouncing  these  noble  words,  Bilney, 
who  longed  for  an  outpouring  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  shut  himself  up  in  his  room,  fell  on  his 
knees  and  called  upon  God  to  come  to  the 
assistance  of  his  Church.  Then  rising  up,  he 
exclaimed,  as  if  animated  by  a  prophetic  spirit, 
"A  new  time  is  beginning.  The  Christian  as- 
sembly is  about  to  be  renewed.  Some  one  is 
coming  unto  us ;  I  see  him,  I  hear  him — it  is 
Jesus  Christ.  .  .  .  He  is  the  King,  and  it  is 
he  who  will  call  the  true  ministers  commission- 
ed to  evangelize  his  people." 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  I9I 

Tyndale,  full  of  the  same  hopes  as  Bilney, 
left  Cambridge  In  the  course  of  the  year  15 19. 
Tyndale  thought  of  raising  up  the  true  throne 
of  the  Church  by  re-establishing  the  legitimate 
sovereignty  of  the  word  of  God.  The  Greek 
Testament  of  Erasmus  had  been  one  step,  and 
it  now  became  necessary  to  place  before  the 
simple  what  the  king  of  the  schools  had  given 
to  the  learned.  This  Idea,  which  pursued  the 
young  Oxford  doctor  everywhere,  was  to  be 
the  mighty  mainspring  of  the  English  Reform- 
ation. 

On  the  slope  of  Sodbury  Hill  there  stood  a 
plain  but  large  mansion,  commanding  an  ex- 
tensive view  over  the  beautiful  vale  of  the  Sev- 
ern, where  Tyndale  was  born.  It  was  inhab- 
ited by  a  family  of  gentle  birth  :  Sir  John  Walsh 
had  shone  In  the  tournaments  of  the  court,  and 
by  this  means  conciliated  the  favor  of  his  prince. 
He  kept  open  table,  and  gentlemen,  deans,  ab- 
bots, archdeacons,  doctors  of  divinity  and  fat 
rectors,  charmed  by  Sir  John's  cordial  welcome 
and  by  his  good  dinners,  were  ever  at  his  house. 
The  former  brother-in-arms  of  Henry  VIII.  felt 
an  interest  In  the  questions  being  discussed 
throughout  Christendom,  Lady  Walsh,  her- 
self a  sensible  and  generous  woman,  lost  not 
a  word  of  the  animated  conversation  of  her 
guests,  and  discreetly  tried  to  incline  the  bal- 
ance to  the  side  of  truth. 


192  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

Tyndale,  after  leaving  Oxford  and  Cambridge, 
had  returned  to  the  home  of  his  fathers.  Sir 
John  had  requested  him  to  educate  his  children, 
and  he  had  accepted.  William  was  then  in  the 
prime  of  life  (he  was  about  thirty-six),  well  in- 
structed in  Scripture  and  full  of  desire  to  show 
forth  the  light  which  God  had  given  him.  Op- 
portunities were  not  wanting.  Seated  at  table 
with  all  the  doctors  welcomed  by  Sir  John,  Tyn- 
dale entered  into  conversation  with  them.  They 
talked  of  the  learned  men  of  the  day — of  Eras- 
mus much,  and  sometimes  of  Luther,  who  was 
beginning  to  astonish  England.  They  discussed 
several  questions  touching  the  Holy  Scriptures, 
and  sundry  points  of  theology.  Tyndale  ex- 
pressed his  convictions  with  admirable  clear- 
ness, supported  them  with  great  learning  and 
kept  his  ground  against  all  with  unbending 
courage.  These  animated  conversations  in  the 
vale  of  the  Severn  are  one  of  the  essential  fea- 
tures of  the  picture  presented  by  the  Reform- 
ation in  England.  The  historians  of  antiquity 
invented  the  speeches  which  they  have  put  into 
the  mouths  of  their  heroes.  In  our  times  his- 
tory, without  inventing,  should  make  us  ac- 
quainted with  the  sentiments  of  the  persons 
of  whom  it  treats.  It  is  sufficient  to  read  Tyn- 
dale's  works  to  form  some  idea  of  these  con- 
versations. It  is  from  his  writings  that  the  fol- 
lowing discussion  has  been  drawn. 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  1 93 

In  the  dining-room  of  the  old  hall  a  varied 
group  was  assembled  round  the  hospitable 
table.  There  were  Sir  John  and  Lady  Walsh, 
a  few  gentlemen  of  the  neighborhood,  with  sev- 
eral abbots,  deans,  monks  and  doctors,  in  their 
respective  costumes.  Tyndale  occupied  the 
humblest  place,  and  generally  kept  Erasmus's 
New  Testament  within  reach  in  order  to  prove 
what  he  advanced.  Numerous  domestics  were 
moving  about  engaged  in  waiting  on  the  guests; 
and  at  length  the  conversation,  after  wandering 
a  little,  took  a  more  precise  direction.  The 
priests  grew  impatient  when  they  saw  the  ter- 
rible volume  appear.  "Your  Scriptures  only 
serve  to  make  heretics,"  they  exclaimed. — "  On 
the  contrary,"  replied  Tyndale,  "  the  source  of 
all  heresies  is  pidde ;  now,  the  word  of  God 
strips  man  of  everything  and  leaves  him  as 
bare  as  Job." — "  The  word  of  God!  why,  even  we 
don't  understand  your  word ;  how  can  the  vulgar 
understand  it?" — "You  do  not  understand  it," 
rejoined  Tyndale,  "  because  you  look  into  it 
only  for  foolish  questions,  as  you  would  into 
Our  Ladys  Matins  or  Merlins  Prophecies. 
Now,  the  Scriptures  are  a  clue  which  we  must 
follow,  without  turning  aside,  until  we  arrive 
at  Christ,  for  Christ  is  the  end." — "And  I  tell 
you,"  shouted  out  a  priest,  "  that  the  Scriptures 
are  a  Daedalian  labyrinth,  rather  than  Ariadne's 
clue — a    conjuring    book   wherein     everybody 

13 


194  MARTYRS   OF   THE    REFORMATION. 

finds  what  he  wants." — "Alas!"  repHed  Tyn- 
dale,  ''  you  read  them  without  Jesus  Christ ; 
that's  why  they  are  an  obscure  book  to  you. 
What  do  I  say  ? — a  den  of  thorns  where  you 
only  escape  from  the  briers  to  be  caught  by 
the  brambles." — "  No  !"  exclaimed  another 
clerk,  heedless  of  contradicting  his  colleague, 
"  nothing  is  obscure  to  us  ;  it  is  we  who  give 
the  Scriptures,  and  we  who  explain  them  to 
you." — "You  would  lose  both  your  time  and 
your  trouble,"  said  Tyndale.  "  Do  you  know 
who  taught  the  eagles  to  find  their  prey  ? 
Well,  that  same  God  teaches  his  hungry  chil- 
dren to  find  their  Father  in  his  word.  Far 
from  having  given  us  the  Scriptures,  it  is  you 
who  have  hidden  them  from  us ;  it  is  you  who 
burn  those  who  teach  them,  and  if  you  could 
you  would  burn  the  Scriptures  themselves." 

Tyndale  was  not  satisfied  with  merely  lay- 
ing down  the  great  principles  of  faith ;  he 
always  sought  after  what  he  calls  "  the  sweet 
marrow  within  ;"  but  to  the  divine  unction  he 
added  no  little  humor,  and  unmercifully  ridi- 
culed the  superstitions  of  his  adversaries. 
"  You  set  candles  before  images,"  he  said  to 
them ;  "  and  since  you  give  them  light,  why 
don't  you  give  them  food?  Why  don't  you 
make  their  bellies  hollow  and  put  victuals  and 
drink  inside  ?  To  serve  God  by  such  mum- 
meries is  treating  him  like  a  spoilt  child,  whom 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  I95 

you  pacify  with  a  toy  or  with  a  horse  made  of 
a  stick." 

But  the  learned  Christian  soon  returned  to 
more  serious  thoughts,  and  when  his  adver- 
saries extolled  the  papacy  as  the  power  that 
would  save  the  Church  in  the  tempest,  he  re- 
plied, "  Let  us  only  take  on  board  the  anchor 
of  faith,  after  having  dipped  it  in  the  blood  of 
Christ,  and  when  the  storm  bursts  upon  us  let 
us  boldly  cast  the  anchor  into  the  sea;  then  you 
may  be  sure  the  ship  will  remain  safe  on  the 
great  waters."  And,  in  fine,  if  his  opponents 
rejected  any  doctrine  of  the  truth,  Tyndale 
(says  the  chronicler),  opening  his  Testament, 
would  set  his  finger  on  the  verse  which  refuted 
the  Romish  error,  and  exclaim,  "Look  and 
read." 

The  contemplation  of  God's  works  refreshed 
Tyndale  after  the  discussions  he  had  to  main- 
tain at  his  patron's  table.  He  would  often 
ramble  to  the  top  of  Sodbury  Hill,  and  there 
repose  amidst  the  ruins  of  an  ancient  Roman 
camp  which  crowned  the  summit.  It  was  here 
that  Queen  Margaret  of  Anjou  halted,  and  here 
too  rested  Edward  IV.,  who  pursued  her,  before 
the  fatal  battle  of  Tewkesbury  which  caused  this 
princess  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  White  Rose. 
Amidst  these  ruins,  monuments  of  the  Roman 
invasion  and  of  the  civil  dissensions  of  England, 
Tyndale   meditated  upon    other   battles   which 


196  MARTYRS   OF   THE    REFORMATION. 

were  to  restore  liberty  and  truth  to  Christen- 
dom. Then  rousing  himself  he  would  descend 
the  hill  and  courageously  resume  his  task. 

Behind  the  mansion  stood  a  little  church 
overshadowed  by  two  large  yew  trees  and  de- 
dicated to  St.  Adeline.  On  Sunday,  Tyndale 
used  to  preach  there,  Sir  John  and  Lady  Walsh, 
with  the  eldest  of  the  children,  occupying  the 
manorial  pew.  This  humble  sanctuary  was 
filled  by  their  household  and  tenantry,  listen- 
ing attentively  to  the  words  of  their  teacher, 
which  fell  from  his  lips  like  "the  waters  of 
Shiloh  that  go  softly."  Tyndale  was  very  live- 
ly in  conversation,  but  he  explained  the  Script- 
ures with  so  much  unction,  says  the  chronicler, 
"  that  his  hearers  thought  they  heard  St.  John 
himself."  If  he  resembled  John  in  the  mild- 
ness of  his  language,  he  resembled  Paul  In 
the  strength  of  his  doctrine.  "  Accordino-  to 
the  pope,"  he  said,  "we  must  first  be  good 
after  his  doctrine,  and  compel  God  to  be  good 
again  for  our  goodness.  Nay,  verily,  God's 
goodness  Is  the  root  of  all  goodness.  Anti- 
christ turneth  the  tree  of  salvation  topsy-turvy: 
he  planteth  the  branches,  and  setteth  the  roots 
upward.  We  must  put  it  straight.  .  .  .  As 
the  husband  marrieth  the  wife  before  he  can 
have  any  lawful  children  by  her,  even  so  faith 
justifieth  us  to  make  us  faithful  In  good  works. 
But  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  should  re- 


WILLIAM    TYNDALE.  1 9/ 

main  barren.  Faith  is  the  holy  candle  where- 
with we  must  bless  ourselves  at  the  last  hour ; 
without  it,  you  will  go  astray  in  the  valley  of 
the  shadow  of  death,  though  you  had  a  thou- 
sand tapers  lighted  around  your  bed." 

The  priests,  irritated  at  such  observations, 
determined  to  ruin  Tyndale,  and  some  of  them 
invited  Sir  John  and  his  lady  to  an  entertain- 
ment at  which  he  was  not  present.  During 
dinner  they  so  abused  the  young  doctor  and 
his  New  Testament  that  his  patrons  retired, 
greatly  annoyed  that  their  tutor  should  have 
made  so  many  enemies.  They  told  him  all 
they  had  heard,  and  Tyndale  successfully  re- 
futed his  adversaries'  arguments.  "  What !" 
exclaimed  Lady  Walsh,  "  there  are  some  of 
these  doctors  worth  one  hundred,  some  two 
hundred,  and  some  three  hundred  pounds  ;  .  .  . 
and  were  it  reason,  think  you,  Master  William, 
that  we  should  believe  you  before  them  ?"  Tyn- 
dale, opening  the  New  Testament,  replied,  "No, 
it  is  not  me  you  should  believe.  That  is  what 
the  priests  have  told  you  ;  but  look  here  :  St. 
Peter,  St.  Paul  and  the  Lord  himself  say  quite 
the  contrary."  The  word  of  God  was  there, 
positive  and  supreme  :  the  sword  of  the  Spirit 
cut  the  difficulty. 

Before  long  the  manor-house  and  St  Ade- 
Hne's  church  became  too  narrow  for  Tyndale's 
zeal.     He   preached  every  Sunday,  sometimes 


198  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

in  a  village,  sometimes  in  a  town.  The  inhabit- 
ants of  Bristol  assembled  to  hear  him  in  a  lar^e 
meadow  called  St.  Austin's  Green.  But  no  soon- 
er had  he  preached  in  any  place  than  the  priests 
hastened  thither,  tore  up  what  he  had  planted, 
called  him  a  heretic,  and  threatened  to  expel 
from  the  Church  every  one  who  dared  listen 
to  him.  When  Tyndale  returned  he  found 
the  field  laid  waste  by  the  enemy,  and,  looking 
sadly  upon  it  as  the  husbandman  who  sees  his 
corn  beaten  down  by  the  hail  and  his  rich  fur- 
rows turned  into  a  barren  waste,  he  exclaimed, 
"What  is  to  be  done?     While  I  am  sowinor  in 

o 

one  place  the  enemy  ravages  the  field  I  have 
just  left.  I  cannot  be  everywhere.  Oh,  if 
Christians  possessed  the  Holy  Scriptures  in 
their  own  tongue  they  could  of  themselves 
withstand  these  sophists.  Without  the  Bible 
it  is  impossible  to  establish  the  laity  in  the 
truth." 

Then  a  great  idea  sprang  up  in  Tyndale's 
heart.  "  It  was  in  the  lanofuatre  of  Israel," 
said  he,  "  that  the  Psalms  were  sung  in  the 
temple  of  Jehovah  ;  and  shall  not  the  gospel 
speak  the  language  of  England  among  us  ? 
.  .  .  Ought  the  Church  to  have  less  light  at 
noonday  than  at  the  dawn  ?  .  .  .  Christians 
must  read  the  New  Testament  in  their  mother- 
tongue."  Tyndale  believed  that  this  idea  pro- 
ceeded from  God.      The  new  sun  would  lead 


WILLIAM   rVNDALE.  I99 

to  the  discovery  of  a  new  world,  and  the  in- 
falHble  rule  would  make  all  human  diversities 
give  way  to  a  divine  unity.  ''  One  holdeth  this 
doctor,  another  that,"  said  Tyndale  ;  "  one  fol- 
loweth  Duns  Scotus,  another  St.  Thomas,  an- 
other Bonaventure,  Alexander  Hales,  Raymond 
of  Penaford,  Lyra,  Gorram,  Hugh  de  Sancto 
Victore,  and  so  many  others  besides.  .  .  .  Now, 
each  of  these  authors  contradicts  the  other. 
How,  then,  can  we  distinguish  him  who  says 
right  from  him  who  says  wrong?  .  .  .  How? 
Verily,  by  God's  word."  Tyndale  hesitated 
no  longer.  While  Wolsey  sought  to  win  the 
papal  tiara,  the  humble  tutor  of  Sodbury  under- 
took to  place  the  torch  of  heaven  in  the  midst 
of  his  fellow-countrymen.  The  translation  of 
the  Bible  should  be  the  work  of  his  life. 

The  first  triumph  of  the  word  was  a  revolu- 
tion in  the  manor-house.  In  proportion  as  Sir 
John  and  Lady  Walsh  acquired  a  taste  for  the 
gospel  they  became  disgusted  with  the  priests. 
The  clergy  were  not  so  often  invited  to  Sod- 
bury, nor  did  they  meet  with  the  same  welcome. 
They  soon  discontinued  their  visits,  and  thought 
of  nothing  but  how  they  could  drive  Tyndale 
from  the  mansion  and  from  the  diocese. 

Unwilling  to  compromise  themselves  in  this 
warfare,  they  sent  forward  some  of  those  light 
troops  which  the  Church  has  always  at  her 
disposal.      Mendicant   friars   and   poor  curates, 


200  MARTYRS    OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

who  could  hardly  understand  their  missal,  and 
the  most  learned  of  whom  made  Albertus  de 
Secretis  Midientm  their  habitual  study,  fell  on 
Tyndale  like  a  pack  of  hungry  hounds.  They 
trooped  to  the  alehouses,  and,  calling  for  a  jug 
of  beer,  took  their  seats,  one  at  one  table,  an- 
other at  another.  They  invited  the  peasantry 
to  drink  with  them,  and,  entering  into  conver- 
sation with  them,  poured  forth  a  thousand 
curses  upon  the  daring  Reformer.  "  He's  a 
hypocrite,"  said  one ;  "  He's  a  heretic,"  said 
another.  The  most  skillful  among  them  would 
mount  upon  a  stool,  and  turning  the  tavern 
into  a  temple,  deliver,  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life,  an  extemporaneous  discourse.  They  re- 
ported words  that  Tyndale  had  never  uttered 
and  actions  that  he  had  never  committed. 
Rushing  upon  the  poor  tutor  (he  himself  in- 
forms us)  "like  unclean  swine  that  follow  their 
carnal  lusts,"  they  tore  his  good  name  to  very 
tatters,  and  shared  the  spoil  among  them ; 
while  the  audience,  excited  by  their  calum- 
nies and  heated  by  the  beer,  departed  over- 
flowing with  rage  and  hatred  against  the  her- 
etic of  Sodbury. 

After  the  monks  came  the  dignitaries.  The 
deans  and  abbots  accused  Tyndale  to  the  chan- 
cellor of  the  diocese,  and  the  storm  which  had 
begun  in  the  tavern  burst  forth  in  the  episcopal 
palace. 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  20I 

The  titular  bishop  of  Worcester  (an  appanage 
of  the  Italian  prelates)  was  Glullo  de'  Medici,  a 
learned  man,  great  politician  and  crafty  priest, 
who  already  governed  the  popedom  without 
being  pope.  Wolsey,  who  administered  the 
diocese  for  his  absent  colleague,  had  appointed 
Thomas  Parker  chancellor,  a  man  devoted  to 
the  Romish  Church.  It  was  to  him  the  church- 
men made  their  complaint.  A  judicial  inquiry 
had  its  difficulties  ;  the  king's  companion-in-arms 
was  the  patron  of  the  pretended  heretic,  and  Sir 
Anthony  Poyntz,  Lady  Walsh's  brother,  was 
sheriff  of  the  county.  The  chancellor  was 
therefore  content  to  convoke  a  general  confer- 
ence of  the  clergy.  Tyndale  obeyed  the  sum- 
mons, but,  foreseeing  what  awaited  him,  he 
cried  heartily  to  God,  as  he  pursued  his  way 
up  the  banks  of  the  Severn,  "  to  give  him 
strength  to  stand  fast  In  the  truth  of  his 
word." 

When  they  were  assembled,  the  abbots  and 
deans  and  other  ecclesiastics  of  the  diocese 
with  haughty  heads  and  threatening  looks 
crowded  round  the  humble  but  unbending  Tyn- 
dale. When  his  turn  arrived  he  stood  forward, 
and  the  chancellor  administered  him  a  severe 
reprimand,  to  which  he  made  a  calm  reply. 
This  so  exasperated  the  chancellor  that,  giving 
way  to  his  passion,  he  treated  Tyndale  as  if  he 
had  been  a  dog.     ''  Where  are  your  witnesses  ?" 


202  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

demanded  die  latter.  "  Let  them  come  forward, 
and  I  will  answer  them."  Not  one  of  them 
dared  support  the  charge  ;  they  looked  another 
way.  The  chancellor  waited ;  one  witness  at 
least  he  must  have,  but  he  could  not  get  that. 
Annoyed  at  this  desertion  of  the  priests,  the 
representative  of  the  Medici  became  more 
equitable  and  let  the  accusation  drop.  Tyn- 
dale  quietly  returned  to  Sodbury,  blessing  God 
who  had  saved  him  from  the  cruel  hands  of  his 
adversaries,  and  entertained  nothing  but  the 
tenderest  charity  toward  them.  "Take  away 
my  goods,"  he  said  to  them  one  day,  "  take 
away  my  good  name,  yet  so  long  as  Christ 
dwelleth  in  my  heart,  so  long  shall  I  love  you 
not  a  whit  the  less."  Here  Indeed  Is  the  St. 
John  to  whom  Tyndale  has  been  compared. 

In  this  violent  warfare,  however,  he  could  not 
fail  to  receive  some  heavy  blows  ;  and  where 
could  he  find  consoladon  ?  Fryth  and  Bilney 
were  far  from  him.  Tyndale  recollected  an 
aged  doctor  who  lived  near  Sodbury,  and  who 
had  shown  him  great  affecdon.  He  went  to 
see  him,  and  opened  his  heart  to  him.  The  old 
man  looked  at  him  for  a  while  as  if  he  hesitated 
to  disclose  some  great  mystery.  "  Do  you  not 
know,"  said  he,  lowering  his  voice,  ''  that  the 
pope  Is  very  Antichrist  whom  the  Scripture 
speaketh  of ?  But  beware  what  you  say;  that 
knowledge  may  cost  you  your  life."     This  doc- 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  203 

trine  of  Antichrist,  which  Luther  was  at  that 
moment  enunciating  so  boldly,  struck  Tyndale. 
Strengthened  by  it,  as  was  the  Saxon  Reformer, 
he  felt  fresh  energy  in  his  heart,  and  the  aged 
doctor  was  to  him  what  the  aged  friar  had 
been  to  Luther. 

When  the  priests  saw  that  their  plot  had 
failed  they  commissioned  a  celebrated  divine 
to  undertake  his  conversion.  The  Reformer 
replied  with  his  Greek  Testament  to  the  school- 
man's arguments.  The  theologian  was  speech- 
less :  at  last  he  exclaimed,  ''  Well,  then,  it  were 
better  to  be  without  God's  laws  than  the  pope's." 
Tyndale,  who  did  not  expect  so  plain  and  blas- 
phemous a  confession,  made  answer,  "And  I 
defy  the  pope  and  all  his  laws ;"  and  then,  as 
if  unable  to  keep  his  secret,  he  added,  "  If  God 
spares  my  life,  I  will  take  care  that  a  ploughboy 
shall  know  more  of  the  Scriptures  than  you  do." 

All  his  thoughts  were  now  directed  to  the 
means  of  carrying  out  his  plans,  and,  desirous 
of  avoiding  conversations  that  might  compro- 
mise them,  he  thenceforth  passed  the  greater 
portion  of  his  time  in  the  library.  He  prayed, 
he  read,  he  began  his  translation  of  the  Bible, 
and  in  all  probability  communicated  portions 
of  it  to  Sir  John  and  Lady  Walsh. 

All  his  precautions  were  useless :  the  scho- 
lastic divine  had  betrayed  him,  and  the  priests 
had  sworn  to  stop  him  in  his  translation  of  the 


204  MARTYRS  OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

Bible.  One  day  he  fell  in  with  a  troop  of 
monks  and  curates,  who  abused  him  in  the 
grossest  manner.  "  It's  the  favor  of  the  gen- 
try of  the  country  that  makes  you  so  proud," 
said  they,  "  but  notwithstanding  your  patrons 
there  will  be  a  talk  about  you  before  long,  and 
in  a  pretty  fashion  too !  You  shall  not  always 
live  in  a  manor-house." 

"  Banish  me  to  the  obscurest  corner  of  Eng- 
land," replied  Tyndale,  "  provided  you  will  per- 
mit me  to  teach  children  and  preach  the  gospel, 
and  give  me  ten  pounds  a  year  for  my  support ; 
I  shall  be  satisfied."  The  priests  left  him,  but 
with  the  intention  of  preparing  for  him  a  very 
different  fate. 

Tyndale  indulged  in  his  pleasant  dreams  no 
longer.  He  saw  that  he  was  on  the  point  of 
being  arrested,  condemned,  and  interrupted  in 
his  great  work.  He  must  seek  a  retreat  where 
he  can  discharge  in  peace  the  task  God  has 
allotted  him.  "  You  cannot  save  me  from  the 
hands  of  the  priests,"  said  he  to  Sir  John,  "  and 
God  knows  to  what  troubles  you  would  expose 
yourself  by  keeping  me  in  your  family.  Per- 
mit me  to  leave  you."  Having  said  this,  he 
gathered  up  his  papers,  took  his  Testament, 
pressed  the  hands  of  his  benefactors,  kissed 
the  children,  and  then  descending  the  hill  bade 
farewell  to  the  smiling  banks  of  the  Severn,  and 
departed    alone — alone   with  his   faith.      What 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  20$ 

shall  he  do  ?  What  will  become  of  him  ? 
Where  shall  he  go  ?  He  went  forth  like  Abra- 
ham, one  thing  alone  engrossing  his  mind :  the 
Scriptures  shall  be  translated  into  the  vulgar 
tongue,  and  he  will  deposit  the  oracles  of  God 
in  the  midst  of  his  countrymen. 

After  bidding  his  sad  farewell  to  the  manor- 
house  of  Sodbury  the  learned  tutor  departed 
for  London.  This  occurred  about  the  end  of 
1522  or  the  beginning  of  1523.  He  had  left 
the  university,  he  had  forsaken  the  house  of 
his  protector ;  his  wandering  career  was  about 
to  commence,  but  a  thick  veil  hid  from  him  all 
its  sorrows.  Tyndale,  a  man  simple  in  his  hab- 
its, sober,  daring  and  generous,  fearing  neither 
fatigue  nor  danger,  inflexible  In  his  duty,  anoint- 
ed with  the  Spirit  of  God,  overflowing  with  love 
for  his  brethren,  emancipated  from  human  tra- 
ditions, the  servant  of  God  alone,  and  loving 
naught  but  Jesus  Christ,  imaginative,  quick  at 
repartee  and  of  touching  eloquence, — such  a 
man  might  have  shone  in  the  foremost  ranks, 
but  he  preferred  a  retired  life  in  some  poor 
corner,  provided  he  could  give  his  countrymen 
the  Scriptures  of  God.  Where  could  he  find 
this  calm  retreat?  was  the  question  he  put  to 
himself  as  he  was  making  his  solitary  way  to 
London.  The  metropolitan  see  was  then  fill- 
ed by  Cul;l-ibert  Tonstall,  who  was  more  of  a 
statesman   and  a  scholar  than  a  churchman — 


206  MARTYRS    OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

"the  first  of  Englishmen  in  Greek  and  Latin 
Hterature,"  said  Erasmus.  This  eulogy  of  the 
learned  Dutchman  occurred  to  Tyndale's  mem- 
ory. "  It  was  the  Greek  Testament  of  Eras- 
mus that  led  me  to  Christ,"  he  said  to  himself; 
"why  should  not  the  house  of  Erasmus's  friend 
offer  me  a  shelter  that  I  may  translate  it?"  At 
last  he  reached  London,  and,  a  stranger  in  that 
crowded  city,  he  wandered  along  the  streets, 
a  prey  by  turns  to  hope  and  fear. 

Being  recommended  by  Sir  John  Walsh  to 
Sir  Harry  Guildford,  the  king's  comptroller, 
and  by  him  to  several  priests,  Tyndale  began 
to  preach  almost  immediately,  especially  at  St. 
Dunstan's,  and  bore  into  the  heart  of  the  capi- 
tal the  truth  which  had  been  banished  from  the 
banks  of  the  Severn.  The  word  of  God  was 
with  him  the  basis  of  salvation,  and  the  grace 
of  God  its  essence.  His  inventive  mind  pre- 
sented the  truths  he  proclaimed  in  a  striking 
manner.  He  said  on  one  occasion,  "  It  is  the 
blood  of  Christ  that  opens  the  gates  of  heaven, 
and  not  thy  works.  I  am  wrong.  Yes,  if  thou 
wilt  have  it  so,  by  thy  good  works  shalt  thou 
be  saved.  Yet  understand  me  well :  not  by 
those  which  thou  hast  done,  but  by  those 
which  Christ  has  done  for  thee.  Christ  is  in 
thee,  and  thou  in  him,  knit  together  insepara- 
bly. Thou  canst  not  be  damned,  except  Christ 
be   damned  with  thee;    neither   can   Christ  be 


-      WILLIAM    TYNDALE.  20^ 

saved,  except  thou  be  saved  with  him."  This 
lucid  view  of  justification  by  faith  places  Tyn- 
dale  amoncr  the  Reformers.  He  did  not  take 
his  seat  on  a  bishop's  throne  or  wear  a  silken 
cope,  but  he  mounted  the  scaffold  and  was 
clothed  with  a  earment  of  flames.  In  the  ser- 
vice  of  a  crucified  Saviour  this  latter  distinc- 
tion is  higher  than  the  former. 

o 

Yet  the  translation  was  his  chief  business ; 
he  spoke  to  his  acquaintances  about  It,  and 
some  of  them  opposed  his  project.  "The 
teachings  of  the  doctors,"  said  some  of  the 
city  tradesmen,  "  can  alone  make  us  under- 
stand Scripture." — ''  That  is  to  say,"  replied 
Tyndale,  "  I  must  measure  the  yard  by  the 
cloth.  Look  here,"  continued  he,  using  a  prac- 
tical argument:  "here  are  in  your  shop  twenty 
pieces  of  stuff  of  different  lengths.  Do  you 
measure  the  yard  by  these  pieces,  or  the  pieces 
by  the  yard  ?  The  universal  standard  is  Scrip- 
ture." This  comparison  was  easily  fixed  in  the 
minds  of  the  petty  tradesmen  of  the  capital. 

Desirous  of  carrying  out  his  project,  Tyn- 
dale aspired  to  become  the  bishop's  chaplain  ; 
his  ambition  was  more  modest  than  Wolsey's. 
The  Hellenist  possessed  qualities  which  could 
not  fail  to  please  the  most  learned  of  English- 
men in  Greek  literature :  Tonstall  and  Tyndale 
both  liked  and  read  the  same  authors.  The  ex- 
tutor  determined  to  plead  his  cause  through  the 


208  MARTYRS   OF   THE    REFORMATION. 

elegant  and  harmonious  disciple  of  Radlcus  and 
Gorcrlas.  "  Here  is  one  of  Isocrates'  orations 
that  I  have  translated  into  Latin,"  said  he  to  Sir 
Harry  Guildford;  "I  should  be  pleased  to  become 
chaplain  to  his  lordship  the  bishop  of  London  ; 
will  you  beg  him  to  accept  this  trifle  ?  Isocrates 
ought  to  be  an  excellent  recommendation  to 
a  scholar ;  will  you  be  good  enough  to  add 
yours  ?"  Guildford  spoke  to  the  bishop,  placed 
the  translation  in  his  hands,  and  Tonstall  re- 
plied with  that  benevolence  which  he  showed 
to  every  one.  "  Your  business  Is  In  a  fair 
way,"  said  the  comptroller  to  Tyndale ;  "  write 
a  letter  to  his  lordship,  and  deliver  It  youx- 
self." 

Tyndale's  hopes  now  began  to  be  realized. 
He  wrote  his  letter  In  the  best  style,  and  then, 
commending  himself  to  God,  proceeded  to  the 
episcopal  palace.  He  fortunately  knew  one  of 
the  bishop's  officers,  William  Hebllthwayte,  to 
whom  he  gave  the  letter.  Hebllthwayte  carried 
it  to  his  lordship  while  Tyndale  waited.  Pils 
heart  throbbed  with  anxiety :  shall  he  find  at 
last  the  long-hoped-for  asylum  ?  The  bishop's 
answer  might  decide  the  whole  course  of  his 
life.  If  the  door  is  opened,  if  the  translator  of 
the  Scriptures  should  be  settled  In  the  episcopal 
palace,  why  should  not  his  London  patron  re- 
ceive the  truth  like  his  patron  at  Sodbury?  and 
in  that  case  what  a  future  for  the  Church  and 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  209 

for  the  kingdom  !  The  Reformation  was  knock- 
ing at  the  door  of  the  hierarchy  of  England,  and 
the  latter  was  about  to  utter  its  yea  or  its  nay. 
After  a  few  moments'  absence  Hebllthwayte  re- 
turned :  "  I  am  going  to  conduct  you  to  his  lord- 
ship." Tyndale  fancied  himself  that  he  had  at- 
tained his  wishes. 

The  bishop  was  too  kind-hearted  to  refuse 
an  audience  to  a  man  who  called  upon  him 
with  the  triple  recommendation  of  Isocrates, 
of  the  comptroller  and  of  the  king's  old  com- 
panion-in-arms. He  received  Tyndale  with  kind- 
ness, a  little  tempered,  however,  with  coldness, 
as  if  he  were  a  man  whose  acquaintanceship 
might  compromise  him.  Tyndale  having  made 
known  his  wishes,  the  bishop  hastened  to  reply: 
*'  Alas  1  my  house  is  full ;  I  have  now  more  peo- 
ple than  I  can  employ."  Tyndale  was  discom- 
fited by  this  answer.  The  bishop  of  London 
was  a  learned  man,  but  wanting  in  courage  and 
consistency;  he  gave  his  right  hand  to  the  friends 
of  letters  and  of  the  gospel,  and  his  left  hand  to 
the  friends  of  the  priests,  and  then  endeavor- 
ed to  walk  with  both.  But  when  he  had  to 
choose  between  the  two  parties  clerical  inter- 
ests prevailed.  There  was  no  lack  of  bishops, 
priests  and  laymen  about  him,  who  intimidated 
him  by  their  clamors.  After  taking  a  few  steps 
forward  he  suddenly  recoiled.  Still,  Tyndale 
ventured  to  hazard  a  word,  but  the  prelate  was 

14 


2IQ  MARrVRS   UJ^    J  HE    KEFORMATION. 

cold  as  before.     The   humanists,  who  laughed 
at  the   ignorance   of   the    monks,   hesitated  to 
touch  an   ecclesiastical   system   which  lavished 
on   them  such  rich  sinecures.     They  accepted 
the  new  ideas   in  theory,  but  not   in  practice. 
They   were   very   willing    to    discuss    them    at 
table,  but  not  to  proclaim  them  from  the  pul- 
pit, and,  covering  the   Greek  Testament  with 
applause,  they  tore  it  in  pieces  when  rendered 
into  the  vulgar  tongue.     "  If  you  will  look  well 
about  London,''  said  Tonstall  coldly  to  the  poor 
priest,  "  you  will  not  fail  to  meet  with  some  suit- 
able employment."     This  was  all  Tyndale  could 
obtain.    Hebilthwayte  waited  on  him  to  the  door, 
and  the  Hellenist  departed  sad  and  desponding. 
His  expectations  were  disappointed.     Driven 
from  the  banks  of  the  Severn,  without  a  home 
in  the  capital,  what  would  become  of  the  trans- 
lation of  the  Scriptures  ?     "  Alas  !"  he  said,  "  I 
was   deceived.     There  is  nothing  to  be  looked 
for  from  the  bishops.     Christ  was  smitten   on 
the  cheek  before  the  bishop,  Paul  was  buffeted 
before  the  bishop,  and  a  bishop  has  just  turned 
me  away."       His  dejection  did   not  last  long : 
there  was  an   elastic  principle  in  his  soul.     "  I 
hunger  for  the  word  of  God,"  said  he ;  *'  I  will 
translate  it,  whatever  they  may  say  or  do.    God 
will  not  suffer  me  to  perish.     He  never  made 
a  mouth  but  he  made  food  for  it,  nor  a  body 
but  he  made  raiment  also." 


WILLIAM   TYAWALE.  211 

This  trustfulness  was  not  misplaced.  It  was 
the  privilege  of  a  layman  to  give  what  the 
bishop  refused.  Among  Tyndale's  hearers  at 
St.  Dunstan's  was  a  rich  merchant  named  Hum- 
phrey Monmouth,  who  had  visited  Rome,  and  to 
whom  (as  well  as  to  his  companions)  the  pope 
had  been  so  kind  as  to  give  certain  Roman 
curiosities,  such  as  indulgences  a  culpa  et  a 
pcend.  Ships  laden  with  his  manufactures 
every  year  quitted  London  for  foreign  coun- 
tries. He  had  formerly  attended  Colet's  preach- 
ing at  St.  Paul's,  and  from  the  year  151 5  he 
had  known  the  word  of  God.  He  was  one 
of  the  gentlest  and  most  obliging  men  of  Eng- 
land, he  kept  open  house  for  the  friends  of 
learning  and  of  the  gospel,  and  his  library  con- 
tained the  newest  publications.  In  putting  on 
Jesus  Christ,  Monmouth  had  particularly  striven 
to  put  on  his  character ;  he  helped  generously 
with  his  purse  both  priests  and  men  of  letters ; 
he  gave  forty  pounds  sterling  to  the  chaplain 
of  the  bishop  of  London,  the  same  to  the  king's, 
to  the  provincial  of  the  Augustines,  and  to  others 
besides.  Latimer,  who  sometimes  dined  with  him, 
once  related  in  the  pulpit  an  ancedote  character- 
istic of  the  friends  of  the  Reformation  in  Enof- 
land.  Among  the  regular  guests  at  Monmouth's 
table  was  one  of  his  poorest  neighbors,  a  zeal- 
ous Romanist,  to  whom  his  generous  host  often 
used  to  lend  money.     One  day,  when  the  pious 


212  MARTYRS    OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

merchant  was  extolling  Scripture  and  blaming 
popery,  his  neighbor  turned  pale,  rose  from  the 
table  and  left  the  room.  "  I  will  never  set  foot 
in  his  house  again,"  he  said  to  his  friends,  "  and 
I  win  never  borrow  another  shilling  of  him." 
He  next  went  to  the  bishop  and  laid  an  Infor- 
mation against  his  benefactor.  Monmouth  for- 
gave him,  and  tried  to  bring  him  back,  but  the 
neighbor  constantly  turned  out  of  his  way. 
Once,  however,  they  met  In  a  street  so  narrow 
that  he  could  not  escape.  "  I  will  pass  by  with- 
out looking  at  him,"  said  the  Romanist,  turning 
away  his  head.  But  Monmouth  went  straight 
to  him,  took  him  by  the  hand  and  said  affection- 
ately, ''Neighbor,  what  wrong  have  I  done  you?" 
and  he  continued  to  speak  to  him  with  so  much 
love  that  the  poor  man  fell  on  his  knees,  burst 
into  tears  and  begged  his  forgiveness.  Such 
was  the  spirit  which,  at  the  very  outset,  anima- 
ted the  work  of  the  Reformation  in  England  : 
it  was  acceptable  to  God  and  found  favor  with 
the  people. 

Monmouth,  being  edified  by  Tyndale's  ser- 
mons. Inquired  into  his  means  of  living.  "  I 
have  none,"  replied  he,  "but  I  hope  to  enter 
into  the  bishop's  service."  This  was  before  his 
visit  to  Tonstall.  When  Tyndale  saw  all  his 
hopes  frustrated  he  went  to  Monmouth  and 
told  him  everything.  "  Come  and  live  with 
me,"   said   the   wealthy  merchant,   "and    there 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  21 3 

labor."  God  did  to  Tyndale  according  to  his 
faith.  Simple,  frugal,  devoted  to  work,  he  stud- 
ied night  and  day ;  and,  wishing  to  guard  his 
mind  against  "  being  overcharged  with  surfeit- 
ing," he  refused  the  delicacies  of  his  patron's 
table,  and  would  take  nothing  but  sodden  meat 
and  small  beer.  It  would  even  seem  that  he 
carried  simplicity  In  dress  almost  too  far.  By 
his  conversation  and  his  works  he  shed  over 
the  house  of  his  patron  the  mild  light  of  the 
Christian  virtues,  and  Monmouth  loved  him 
more  and  more  every  day. 

Tyndale  was  advancing  In  his  work  when 
John  Fryth,  the  mathematician  of  King's  Col- 
lege, Cambridge,  arrived  in  London.  It  Is 
probable  that  Tyndale,  feeling  the  want  of  an 
associate,  had  Invited  him.  United  like  Luther 
and  Melanchthon,  the  two  friends  held  many 
precious  conversations  together.  "  I  will  con- 
secrate  my  life  wholly  to  the  Church  of  Jesus 
Christ,"  said  Fryth. — "To  be  a  good  man,  you 
must  give  great  part  of  yourself  to  your  pa- 
rents, a  greater  part  to  your  country,  but  the 
greatest  of  all  to  the  Church  of  the  Lord." — 
"The  people  should  know  the  word  of  God," 
they  said  both.  "  The  Interpretation  of  the 
gospel,  without  the  Intervention  of  councils  or 
popes,  Is  sufficient  to  create  a  saving  faith  in 
the  heart."  They  shut  themselves  up  in  the 
little    room    In    Monmouth's   house  and   trans- 


214  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

lated  chapter  after  chapter  from  the  Greek 
into  plain  EngHsh.  The  bishop  of  London 
knew  nothing  of  the  work  going  on  a  few 
yards  from  him,  and  everything  was  succeed- 
ing to  Tyndale's  wishes  when  it  was  interrupt- 
ed by  an  unforeseen  circumstance. 

Longland,  the  persecutor  of  the  Lincolnshire 
Christians,  did  not  confine  his  activity  within 
the  limits  of  his  diocese ;  he  besieged  the  king, 
the  cardinal  and  the  queen  with  his  cruel  im- 
portunities, using  Wolsey's  influence  with  Hen- 
ry, and  Henry's  with  Wolsey.  "  His  Majesty," 
he  wrote  to  the  cardinal,  "  shows  in  this  holy 
dispute  as  much  goodness  as  zeal,  .  .  .  yet  be 
pleased  to  urge  him  to  overthrow  God's  ene- 
mies." And  then  turning  to  the  king,  the  con- 
fessor said,  to  spur  him  on,  ''The  cardinal  is 
about  to  fulminate  the  greater  excommunica- 
tion against  all  who  possess  Luther's  works  or 
hold  his  opinions,  and  to  make  the  booksellers 
sign  a  bond  before  the  magistrates  not  to  sell 
heretical  books." — "  Wonderful !"  replied  Hen- 
ry with  a  sneer ;  "  they  will  fear  the  magisterial 
bond,  I  think,  more  than  the  clerical  excommu- 
nication." And  yet  the  consequences  of  the 
"  clerical "  excommunication  were  to  be  very 
positive ;  whosoever  persevered  in  his  offence 
was  to  be  pursued  by  the  law  ad  ignem — even 
to  the  fire.  At  last  the  confessor  applied  to 
the  queen.     "  We  cannot  be  sure  of  restraining 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  21$ 

the  press,"  he  said  to  her.  "These  wretched 
books  come  to  us  from  Germany,  France  and 
the  Low  Countries,  and  are  even  printed  In 
the  very  midst  of  us.  Madam,  we  must  train 
and  prepare  skillful  men,  such  as  are  able  to 
discuss  the  controverted  points,  so  that  the 
laity,  struck  on  the  one  hand  by  well-develop- 
ed arguments  and  frightened  by  the  fear  of 
punishment  on  the  other,  may  be  kept  In  obe- 
dience." In  the  bishop's  system  "fire"  was  to 
be  the  complement  of  Romish  learning.  The 
essential  idea  of  Jesuitism  is  already  visible  In 
this  conception  of  Henry  VIII. 's  confessor. 
That  system  is  the  natural  development  of 
Romanism. 

Tonstall,  urged  forward  by  Longland,  and 
desirous  of  showing  himself  as  holy  a  church- 
man as  he  had  once  been  a  skillful  statesman 
and  elegant  scholar, — Tonstall,  the  friend  of 
Erasmus,  began  to  persecute.  He  would  have 
feared  to  shed  blood  like  Longland,  but  there 
are  measures  which  torture  the  mind  and  not 
the  body,  and  which  the  most  moderate  men 
fear  not  to  make  use  of.  John  HIgglns,  Hen- 
ry Chambers,  Thomas  Eaglestone,  a  priest 
named  Edmund  Spilman,  and  some  other 
Christians  In  London,  used  to  meet  and  read 
portions  of  the  Bible  In  English,  and  even  as- 
serted publicly  that  "  Luther  had  more  learning 
in  his  little  finger  than  all  the  doctors  in  Eng- 


2l6  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

land."  The  bishop  ordered  these  rebels  to 
be  arrested :  he  flattered  and  alarmed  them, 
threatening  them  with  a  cruel  death  (which  he 
would  hardly  have  inflicted  on  them),  and  by 
these  skillful  practices  reduced  them  to  silence. 

Tyndale,  who  witnessed  this  persecution, 
feared  lest  the  stake  should  interrupt  his  labor. 
If  those  who  read  a  few  fragments  of  Scripture 
are  threatened  with  death,  what  will  he  not  have 
to  endure  who  is  translating  the  whole  ?  His 
friends  entreated  him  to  withdraw  from  the 
bishop's  pursuit.  "Alas!"  he  exclaimed,  "is 
there,  then,  no  place  where  I  can  translate  the 
Bible?  It  is  not  the  bishop's  house  alone  that 
is  closed  against  me,  but  all  England." 

He  then  made  a  great  sacrifice.  Since  there 
is  no  place  in  his  own  country  where  he  can 
translate  the  word  of  God,  he  will  go  and  seek 
one  amone  the  nations  of  the  Continent.  It  is 
true  the  people  are  unknown  to  him  ;  he  is  with- 
out resources ;  perhaps  persecution  and  even 
death  await  him  there.  It  matters  not.  Some 
time  must  elapse  before  it  is  known  what  he  is 
doing,  and  perhaps  he  will  have  been  able  to 
translate  the  Bible.  He  turned  his  eyes  toward 
Germany.  "  God  does  not  destine  us  to  a 
quiet  life  here  below,"  he  said.  "  If  he  calls  us 
to  peace  on  the  part  of  Jesus  Christ,  he  calls  us 
to  war  on  the  part  of  the  world." 

There  lay  at  that  moment  In  the  river  Thames 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  21/ 

a  vessel  loading  for  Hamburg.  Monmouth  gave 
Tyndale  ten  pounds  sterling  for  his  voyage,  and 
other  friends  contributed  a  like  amount.  He 
left  the  half  of  this  sum  in  the  hands  of  his  ben- 
efactor to  provide  for  his  future  wants,  and  pre- 
pared to  quit  London,  where  he  had  spent  a 
year.  Rejected  by  his  fellow-countrymen,  per- 
secuted by  the  clergy,  and  carrying  with  him 
only  his  New  Testament  and  his  ten  pounds,  he 
went  on  board  the  ship,  shaking  off  the  dust  of 
his  feet  according  to  his  Master's  precept,  and 
that  dust  fell  back  on  the  priests  of  England. 
He  was  indignant  (says  the  chronicler)  against 
those  coarse  monks,  covetous  priests  and  pomp- 
ous prelates  who  were  waging  an  impious  war 
against  God.  "  What  a  trade  is  that  of  the 
priests !"  he  said  in  one  of  his  later  writings. 
''  They  want  money  for  everything — money  for 
baptisms,  money  for  churchings,  for  weddings, 
for  buryings,  for  images,  brotherhoods,  pen- 
ances, soul-masses,  bells,  organs,  chalices,  copes, 
surplices,  ewers,  censers  and  all  manner  of  or- 
naments. Poor  sheep !  The  parson  shears, 
the  vicar  shaves,  the  parish  priest  polls,  the 
friar  scrapes,  the  indulgence-seller  pares :  all 
that  you  want  is  a  butcher  to  flay  you  and  take 
away  your  skin.  He  will  not  leave  you  long. 
Why  are  your  prelates  dressed  in  red?  Be- 
cause they  are  ready  to  shed  the  blood  of  whom- 
soever seeketh  the  word  of  God.     Scourges  of 


2l8  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

States,  devastators  of  kingdoms,  the  priests  take 
away  not  only  Holy  Scripture,  but  also  prosper- 
ity and  peace ;  but  of  their  councils  is  no  lay- 
man :  reigning  over  all,  they  obey  nobody,  and, 
making  all  concur  to  their  own  greatness,  they 
conspire  against  every  kingdom." 

No  kingdom  was  to  be  more  familiar  than 
England  with  the  conspiracies  of  the  papacy  of 
which  Tyndale  spoke,  and  yet  none  was  to  free 
itself  more  irrevocably  from  the  power  of 
Rome. 

Yet  Tyndale  was  leaving  the  shores  of  his 
native  land,  and  as  he  turned  his  eyes  toward 
the  new  countries  hope  revived  in  his  heart. 
He  was  going  to  be  free,  and  he  would  use  his 
liberty  to  deliver  the  word  of  God,  so  long  held 
captive.  ''The  priests,"  he  said  one  day,  "  when 
they  had  slain  Christ,  set  pole-axes  to  keep  him 
in  his  sepulchre,  that  he  should  not  rise  again  ; 
even  so  have  our  priests  buried  the  Testament 
of  God,  and  all  their  study  is  to  keep  it  down, 
that  it  rise  not  again.  But  the  hour  of  the 
Lord  is  come,  and  nothing  can  hinder  the  word 
of  God,  as  nothing  could  hinder  Jesus  Christ 
of  old  from  issuing  from  the  tomb."  Indeed, 
that  poor  man  then  sailing  toward  Germany 
was  to  send  back,  even  from  the  banks  of  the 
Elbe,  the  eternal  gospel  to  his  countrymen. 

The  ship  which  carried  Tyndale  and  his  MSS. 
cast  anchor  at  Hamburg,  where  since  the  year 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  219 

1 52 1  the  gospel  had  counted  numerous  friends. 
Encouraged  by  the  presence  of  his  brethren, 
the  Oxford  fellow  had  taken  a  quiet  lodging  in 
one  of  the  narrow,  winding  streets  of  that  old 
city,  and  had  immediately  resumed  his  task.  A 
secretary,  whom  he  terms  his  "  faithful  compan- 
ion," aided  him  in  collating  texts,  but  it  was  not 
long  before  this  brother,  whose  name  is  unknown 
to  us,  thinking  himself  called  to  preach  Christ  in 
places  where  he  had  as  yet  never  been  proclaim- 
ed, left  Tyndale.  A  former  friar-Observant  of 
the  Franciscan  order  at  Greenwich  having  aban- 
doned the  cloister,  and  being  at  this  time  with- 
out resources,  offered  his  services  to  the  Hel- 
lenist. William  Roye  was  one  of  those  men 
(and  they  are  always  pretty  numerous)  whom 
impatience  of  the  yoke  alienates  from  Rome, 
without  their  being  attracted  by  the  Spirit  of 
God  to  Christ.  Acute,  insinuating,  crafty,  and 
yet  of  pleasing  manners,  he  charmed  all  those 
who  had  mere  casual  relations  with  him.  Tyn- 
dale, banished  to  the  distant  shores  of  the  Elbe, 
surrounded  by  strange  customs  and  hearing 
only  a  foreign  tongue,  often  thought  of  Eng- 
land, and  was  impatient  that  his  country  should 
enjoy  the  result  of  his  labors :  he  accepted 
Roye's  aid.  The  Gospels  of  Matthew  and 
Mark,  translated  and  printed  at  Hamburg,  be- 
came, it  would  seem,  the  first-fruits  to  England 
of  his  great  task. 


220  MARTYRS    OF   THE    REFORMATION. 

But  Tyndale  was  soon  overwhelmed  by  an- 
noyances. Roye,  who  was  pretty  manageable 
while  he  had  no  money,  had  become  intractable 
now  that  his  purse  was  less  empty.  What  was 
to  be  done  ?  The  Reformer,  having  spent  the 
ten  pounds  he  had  brought  from  England,  could 
not  satisfy  the  demands  of  his  assistant,  pay  his 
own  debts  and  remove  to  another  city.  He  be- 
came still  more  sparing  and  economical.  The 
Wartburg,  in  which  Luther  had  translated  the 
New  Testament,  was  a  palace  in  comparison 
with  the  lodging  in  which  the  Reformer  of 
wealthy  England  endured  hunger  and  cold 
while  toiling  day  and  night  to  give  the  gospel 
to  the  English  Christians. 

About  the  end  of  1524,  Tyndale  sent  the  two 
Gospels  to  Monmouth,  and  a  merchant  named 
John  Collenbeke,  having  brought  him  the  ten 
pounds  he  had  left  in  the  hands  of  his  old  pa- 
tron, he  prepared  to  depart  immediately. 

Where  should  he  go  ?  Not  to  England  ;  he 
must  complete  his  task  before  all  things.  Could 
he  be  in  Luther's  nei^rhborhood  and  not  desire 
to  see  him  ?  He  needed  not  the  Saxon  Re- 
former either  to  find  the  truth,  which  he  had 
already  known  at  Oxford,  or  to  undertake  the 
translation  of  the  Scriptures,  which  he  had 
already  begun  in  the  vale  of  the  Severn.  But 
did  not  all  evangelical  foreigners  flock  to  Wit- 
temberg  ?    To  remove  all  doubt  as  to  the  inter- 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  221 

view  of  the  Reformers,  it  would  be  desirable 
perhaps  to  find  some  trace  of  it  at  Wittemberg 
either  in  the  university  registers  or  in  the  writ- 
ings of  the  Saxon  Reforrtiers.  Yet  several  con- 
temporaneous testimonies  seem  to  give  a  suf- 
ficient degree  of  probability  to  this  conference. 
Fox  tells  us,  "  He  had  an  interview  with  Luther 
and  other  learned  men  of  that  country."  This 
must  have  been  in  the  spring  of  1525. 

Tyndale,  desirous  of  drawing  nearer  to  his  na- 
tive country,  turned  his  eyes  toward  the  Rhine. 
There  were  at  Cologne  some  celebrated  print- 
ers well  known  in  England,  and  among  others 
Quentel  and  the  Byrckmans.  Francis  Byrck- 
man  had  warehouses  in  St.  Paul's  Churchyard 
in  London,  a  circumstance  that  might  facilitate 
the  introduction  and  sale  of  the  Testament 
printed  on  the  banks  of  the  Rhine.  This  prov- 
idential circumstance  decided  Tyndale  in  favor 
of  Cologne,  and  thither  he  repaired  with  Roye 
and  his  MSS.  Arrived  in  the  gloomy  streets 
of  the  city  of  Agrippina,  he  contemplated  its 
innumerable  churches,  and  above  all  its  ancient 
cathedral  re-echoing  to  the  voices  of  its  can- 
ons, and  was  oppressed  with  sorrow  as  he  be- 
held the  priests  and  monks  and  mendicants 
and  pilgrims  who,  from  all  parts  of  Europe, 
poured  in  to  adore  the  pretended  relics  of  the 
three  wise  men  and  of  the  eleven  thousand  vir- 
gins.    And  then  Tyndale  asked  himself  wheth- 


222  MARTYRS   OF   THE    REFORMATION. 

er  it  was  really  In  this  superstitious  city  that 
the  New  Testament  was  to  be  printed  in  Eng- 
lish. This  was  not  all.  The  Reform  move- 
ment then  at  work  ifi  Germany  had  broken 
out  at  Cologne  during  the  feast  of  Whitsuntide, 
and  the  archbishop  had  just  forbidden  all  evan- 
gelical worship.  Yet  Tyndale  persevered,  and 
submitting  to  the  most  minute  precautions,  not 
to  compromise  his  work,  he  took  an  obscure 
lodging,  where  he  kept  himself  closely  hidden. 

Soon,  however,  trusting  in  God,  he  called  on 
the  printer,  presented  his  manuscripts  to  him, 
ordered  six  thousand  copies,  and  then,  upon 
reflection,  sank  down  to  three  thousand  for  fear 
of  a  seizure.  The  printing  went  on  ;  one  sheet 
followed  another;  gradually  the  gospel  unfold- 
ed its  mysteries  in  the  English  tongue,  and 
Tyndale  could  not  contain  himself  for  very  joy. 
He  saw  in  his  mind's  eye  the  triumphs  of  the 
Scriptures  over  all  the  kingdon,  and  exclaimed 
with  transport,  "Whether  the  king  wills  it  or 
not,  ere  long  all  the  people  of  England,  en- 
lightened by  the  New  Testament,  will  obey  the 
gospel." 

But  on  a  sudden  that  sun  whose  earliest 
beams  he  had  hailed  with  songs  of  joy  was 
hidden  by  thick  clouds.  One  day,  just  as  the 
tenth  sheet  had  been  thrown  off,  the  printer 
hastened  to  Tyndale  and  informed  him  that 
the   senate   of    Cologne    forbade  him  to   con- 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  223 

tinue  the  work.  Everything  was  discovered, 
then  ?  No  doubt  Henry  VIII.,  who  has  burnt 
Luther's  books,  wishes  to  burn  the  New  Tes- 
tament also,  to  destroy  Tyndale's  manuscripts 
and  deHver  him  up  to  death.  Who  had  be- 
trayed him  ?  He  was  lost  In  unavailing  con- 
jectures, and  one  thing  only  appeared  certain  : 
alas !  his  vessel,  which  was  moving  onward  in 
full  sail,  had  struck  upon  a  reef!  The  follow- 
ing is  the  explanation  of  this  unexpected  inci- 
dent. 

One  of  the  most  violent  enemies  of  the 
Reformation  —  we  mean  Cochlaeus  —  had  ar- 
rived in  Cologne.  The  wave  of  popular  agi- 
tation which  had  stirred  this  city  during  the 
Whitsuntide  holidays  had  previously  swept  over 
Frankfort  during  the  festival  of  Easter,  and 
the  dean  of  Notre  Dame,  taking  advantage 
of  a  moment  when  the  gates  of  the  city  were 
open,  had  escaped  a  few  minutes  before  the 
burghers  entered  his  house  to  arrest  him.  On 
arriving  at  Cologne,  where  he  hoped  to  live 
unknown  under  the  shadow  of  the  powerful 
elector,  he  had  gone  to  lodge  with  George 
Lauer,  a  canon  in  the  church  of  the  Apostles. 

By  a  singular  destiny  the  two  most  opposite 
men,  Tyndale  and  Cochlaeus,  were  in  hiding  in 
the  same  city;  they  could  not  long  remain  there 
without  coming  into  collision. 

On  the  right  bank  of  the  Rhine,  and  opposite 


224  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

Cologne,  stood  the  monastry  of  Deutz,  one  of 
whose  abbots,  Rupert,  who  Hved  in  the  twelfth 
century,  had  said,  ''To  be  ignorant  of  Scripture 
is  to  be  ignorant  of  Jesus  Christ.  This  is  the 
Scripture  of  nations.  This  book  of  God,  which 
is  not  pompous  in  words  and  poor  in  meaning 
like  Plato,  ought  to  be  set  before  every  people 
and  to  proclaim  aloud  to  the  whole  world  the 
salvation  of  all."  One  day,  when  Cochlaeus 
and  his  host  were  talking  of  Rupert,  the  canon 
informed  the  dean  that  the  heretic  Osiander 
of  Nuremberg  was  in  treaty  with  the  abbot 
of  Deutz  about  publishing  the  writings  of  this 
ancient  doctor.  Cochlaeus  guessed  that  Osian- 
der was  desirous  of  bringing  forward  the  con- 
temporary of  St.  Bernard  as  a  witness  in  de- 
fence of  the  Reformation.  Hastening  to  the 
monastery,  he  alarmed  the  abbot.  "  Entrust  to 
me  the  manuscripts  of  your  celebrated  pre- 
decessor," he  said ;  "  I  will  undertake  to  print 
them  and  prove  that  he  was  one  of  us."  The 
monks  placed  them  in  his  hands,  stipulating 
for  an  early  publication,  from  which  they  ex- 
pected no  little  renown.  Cochlaeus  immediate- 
ly went  to  Peter  Quentel  and  Arnold  Byrck- 
man  to  make  the  necessary  arrangements. 
They  were  Tyndale's  printers. 

There  Cochlaeus  made  a  more  important 
discovery  than  that  of  Rupert's  manuscripts. 
Byrckman  and  Quentel  having  invited  him  one 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  22$ 

day  to  meet  several  of  their  colleagues  at  din- 
ner, a  printer  somewhat  elevated  by  wine  de- 
clared in  his  cups  (to  borrow  the  words  of 
Cochlaeus),  "Whether  the  king  and  the  cardinal 
of  York  wish  it  or  not,  all  England  will  soon 
be  Lutheran."  Cochlaeus  listened  and  grew 
alarmed ;  he  made  inquiry,  and  was  informed 
that  two  Englishmen,  learned  men  and  skilled 
in  the  languages,  were  concealed  at  Cologne. 
But  all  his  efforts  to  discover  more  proved 
unavailing. 

There  was  no  more  repose  for  the  dean  of 
Frankfort ;  his  imagination  fermented,  his  mind 
became  alarmed.  "  What,"  said  he,  "  shall  Eng- 
land, that  faithful  servant  of  the  popedom,  be 
perverted  like  Germany  ?  Shall  the  English, 
the  most  religious  people  of  Christendom,  and 
whose  king  once  ennobled  himself  by  writing 
against  Luther, — shall  they  be  invaded  by 
heresy  ?  Shall  the  mighty  cardinal-legate  of 
York  be  compelled  to  flee  from  his  palace,  as 
I  was  from  Frankfort?"  Cochlaeus  continued 
his  search ;  he  paid  frequent  visits  to  the  print- 
ers, spoke  to  them  in  a  friendly  tone,  flattered 
them,  invited  them  to  visit  him  at  the  canon's  ; 
but  as  yet  he  dared  not  hazard  the  important 
question :  it  was  sufficient  for  the  moment  to 
have  won  the  good  graces  of  the  depositaries 
of  the  secret.  He  soon  took  a  new  step ;  he 
was  careful   not  to  question  them  before  one 

15 


226  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

another,  but  he  procured  a  private  interview 
with  one  of  them  and  suppHed  him  plentifully 
with  Rhine  wine:  he  himself  is  our  informant. 
Artful  questions  embarrassed  the  unwary  print- 
er, and  at  last  the  secret  was  disclosed.  "The 
New  Testament,"  Cochlaeus  learnt,  "is  transla- 
ted into  English ;  three  thousand  copies  are  in 
the  press  ;  fourscore  pages  in  quarto  are  ready; 
the  expense  is  fully  supplied  by  English  mer- 
chants, who  are  secretly  to  convey  the  work 
when  printed,  and  to  disperse  it  widely  through 
all  England  before  the  king  or  the  cardinal  can 
discover  or  prohibit  it.  Thus  will  Britain  be 
converted  to  the  opinions  of  Luther." 

The  surprise  of  Cochlaeus  equaled  his  alarm ; 
he  dissembled ;  he  wished  to  learn,  however, 
where  the  two  Englishmen  lay  concealed ;  but 
all  his  exertions  proved  ineffectual,  and  he  re- 
turned to  his  lodgings  filled  with  emotion.  The 
danger  was  very  great.  A  stranger  and  an  ex- 
ile, what  can  he  do  to  oppose  this  impious  un- 
dertaking? Where  shall  he  find  a  friend  to 
England  prepared  to  show  his  zeal  in  warding 
off  the  threatened  blow  ?     He  was  bewildered. 

A  flash  of  light  suddenly  dispelled  the  dark- 
ness. A  person  of  some  consequence  at  Co- 
logne, Herman  Rincke,  a  patrician  and  imperial 
councilor,  had  been  sent  on  important  business 
by  the  emperor  Maximilian  to  Henry  VII.,  and 
from  that  time  he  had    always  shown  a  great 


WILLIAM    TVNDALE.  22/ 

attachment  to  England.  Cochlaeus  determined 
to  reveal  the  fatal  secret  to  him,  but,  being  still 
alarmed  by  the  scenes  at  Frankfort,  he  was 
afraid  to  conspire  openly  against  the  Reforma- 
tion. He  had  left  an  aged  mother  and  a  little 
niece  at  home,  and  was  unwilling  to  do  any- 
thing which  might  compromise  them.  He 
therefore  crept  stealthily  toward  Rincke's  house 
(as  he  tells  us  himself),'  slipped  in  secretly,  and 
unfolded  the  whole  matter  to  him.  Rincke 
could  not  believe  that  the  New  Testament  in 
English  was  printing  at  Cologne ;  however,  he 
sent  a  confidential  person  to  make  inquiries, 
who  reported  to  him  that  Cochlaeus's  informa- 
tion was  correct,  and  that  he  had  found  in  the 
printing-office  a  large  supply  of  paper  intend- 
ed for  the  edition.  The  patrician  immediately 
proceeded  to  the  senate  and  spoke  of  Wolsey, 
of  Henry  VIII.  and  of  the  preservation  of  the 
Romish  Church  in  England ;  and  that  body, 
which,  under  the  influence  of  the  archbishop, 
had  long  since  forgotten  the  rights  of  liberty, 
forbade  the  printer  to  continue  the  work. 
Thus,  then,  there  were  to  be  no  New  Testaments 
for  England !  A  practiced  hand  had  warded 
off  the  blow  aimed  at  Roman  Catholicism ; 
Tyndale  would  perhaps  be  thrown  into  prison, 
and  Cochlaeus  enjoy  a  complete  triumph. 

Tyndale  was  at  first  confounded.     Were  so 
many  years  of  toil   lost,  then,  for  ever?     His 


228  MARTYRS  OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

trial  seemed  beyond  his  strength.  "  They  are 
ravening  wolves,"  he  exclaimed  ;  "  they  preach 
to  others,  *  Steal  not,'  and  yet  they  have  robbed 
the  soul  of  man  of  the  bread  of  life,  and  fed 
her  with  the  shales  [shells  ?]  and  cods  of  the 
hope  in  their  merits  and  confidence  in  their 
good  works."  Yet  Tyndale  did  not  long  re- 
main cast  down,  for  his  faith  was  of  that  kind 
which  would  remove  mountains.  Is  it  not  the 
word  of  God  that  is  imperiled  ?  If  he  does  not 
abandon  himself,  God  will  not  abando7i  him.  He 
must  anticipate  the  senate  of  Cologne.  Daring 
and  prompt  in  all  his  movements,  Tyndale  bade 
Roye  follow  him,  hastened  to  the  printing-office, 
collected  the  sheets,  jumped  into  a  boat  and 
rapidly  ascended  the  river,  carrying  with  him 
the  hope  of   England. 

When  Cochlaeus  and  Rincke,  accompanied  by 
the  officers  of  the  senate,  reached  the  printing- 
office,  they  were  surprised  beyond  measure. 
The  apostate  had  secured  the  abominable  pa- 
pers. Their  enemy  had  escaped  like  a  bird 
from  the  net  of  the  fowler.  Where  was  he  to 
be  found  now?  He  would  no  doubt  eo  and 
place  himself  under  the  protection  of  some 
Lutheran  prince,  whither  Cochlaeus  would  take 
good  care  not  to  pursue  him  ;  but  there  was 
one  resource  left.  These  English  books  can  do 
no  harm  in  Germany ;  they  must  be  prevented 
reaching  London.     He  wrote   to   Henry  VIII., 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  229 

to  Wolsey  and  to  the  bishop  of  Rochester. 
"Two  EngHshmen,"  said  he  to  the  king,  "hke 
the  two  eunuchs  who  desired  to  lay  hands  on 
Ahasuerus,  are  plotting  wickedly  against  the 
peace  of  your  kingdom ;  but  I,  like  the  faithful 
Mordecal,  will  lay  open  their  designs  to  you. 
They  wish  to  send  the  New  Testament  In  English 
to  your  people.  Give  orders  at  every  seaport  to 
prevent  the  introduction  of  this  most  baneful 
merchandise."  Such  was  the  name  given  by 
this  zealous  follower  of  the  pope  to  the  word 
of  God.  An  unexpected  ally  soon  restored 
peace  to  the  soul  of  Cochlaeus.  The  celebra- 
ted Dr.  Eck,  a  champion  of  popery  far  more 
formidable  than  he  was,  had  arrived  at  Cologne 
on  his  way  to  London,  and  he  undertook  to 
arouse  the  anger  of  the  bishops  and  of  the 
king.  The  eyes  of  the  greatest  opponents 
of  the  Reformation  seemed  now  to  be  fixed  on 
England.  Eck,  who  boasted  of  having  gained 
the  most  signal  triumphs  over  Luther,  would 
easily  get  the  better  of  the  humble  tutor  and 
his  New  Testament. 

During  this  time  Tyndale,  guarding  his  pre- 
cious bales,  ascended  the  rapid  river  as  quickly 
as  he  could.  He  passed  before  the  andque 
cities  and  the  smiling  villages  scattered  along 
the  banks  of  the  Rhine  amidst  scenes  of  pic- 
turesque beauty.  The  mountains,  glens  and 
rocks,  the  dark  forests,  the   ruined   fortresses, 


230  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

the  Gothic  churches,  the  boats  that  passed  and 
repassed  each  other,  the  birds  of  prey  that 
soared  over  his  head  as  if  they  bore  a  mission 
from  Cochlaeus, — nothing  could  turn  his  eyes 
from  the  treasure  he  was  carrying  widi  him. 
At  last,  after  a  voyage  of  five  or  six  days,  he 
reached  Worms,  where  Luther  four  years  be- 
fore had  exclaimed,  ''  Here  I  stand ;  I  can  do 
no  other;  may  God  help  me!"  These  words 
of  the  German  Reformer,  so  well  known  to 
Tyndale,  were  the  star  that  had  guided  him  to 
Worms.  He  knew  that  the  gospel  was  preach- 
ed in  that  ancient  city.  "The  citizens  are  sub- 
ject to  fits  of  Lutheranism,"  said  Cochlaeus. 
Tyndale  arrived  there,  not,  as  Luther  did,  sur- 
rounded by  an  immense  crowd,  but  unknown 
and  imagining  himself  pursued  by  the  myrmi- 
dons of  Charles  and  of  Henry.  As  he  landed 
from  the  boat  he  cast  an  uneasy  glance  around 
him  and  laid  down  his  precious  burden  on  the 
bank  of  the  river. 

He  had  had  time  to  reflect  on  the  dangers 
which  threatened  his  work.  As  his  enemies 
would  have  marked  the  edition,  some  few  sheets 
of  it  having  fallen  into  their  hands,  he  took  steps 
to  mislead  the  inquisitors,  and  began  a  new  edi- 
tion, striking  out  the  prologue  and  the  notes, 
and  substituting  the  more  portable  octavo  form 
for  the  original  quarto.  Peter  Schcefer,  the 
grandson   of    Fust,   one   of   the    inventors   of 


WILLIAM    TYNDALE.  23  I 

printing,  lent  his  presses  for  this  important 
work.  The  two  editions  were  quietly  com- 
pleted about  the  end  of  the  year  1525. 

Thus  were  the  wicked  deceived :  they  would 
have  deprived  the  English  people  of  the  ora- 
cles of  God,  and  tzvo  editions  were  now  ready 
to  enter  England.  "  Give  diligence,"  said  Tyn- 
dale  to  his  fellow-countrymen  as  he  sent  from 
Worms  the  Testament  he  had  just  translated, 
*'  unto  the  words  of  eternal  life,  by  the  which, 
if  we  repent  and  believe  them,  we  are  born 
anew,  created  afresh  and  enjoy  the  fruits  of 
the  blood  of  Christ."  In  the  beginning  of  1526 
these  books  crossed  the  sea  by  way  of  Antwerp 
or  Rotterdam.  Tyndale  was  happy,  but  he 
knew  that  the  unction  of  the  Holy  Ghost  alone 
could  enable  the  people  of  England  to  under- 
stand these  sacred  pages ;  and  accordingly  he 
followed  them  night  and  day  with  his  prayers. 
"The  scribes  and  Pharisees,"  said  he,  "had 
thrust  up  the  sword  of  the  word  of  God  in  a 
scabbard  or  sheath  of  glosses,  and  therein  had 
knit  it  fast,  so  that  it  could  neither  stick  nor  cut. 
Now,  O  God,  draw  this  sharp  sword  from  the 
scabbard.  Strike,  wound,  cut  asunder  the  soul 
and  the  flesh,  so  that  man,  being  divided  in  two 
and  set  at  variance  with  himself,  may  be  in 
peace  with  thee  to  all  eternity." 

Tyndale's  English  New  Testament  was  now 
crossing  the   sea ;    five   pious    Hanseatic    mer- 


232  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

chants  had  taken  charge  of  the  books.  Cap- 
tivated by  the  Holy  Scriptures,  they  had  taken 
them  on  board  their  ships,  hidden  them  among 
their  merchandise  and  then  made  sail  from  Ant- 
werp for  Lonxlon. 

Thus  those  precious  pages  were  approaching 
England  which  were  to  become  its  light  and  the 
source  of  its  greatness.  The  merchants,  whose 
zeal  unhappily  cost  them  dear,  were  not  with- 
out alarm.  Had  not  Cochlaeus  caused  orders 
to  be  sent  to  every  port  to  prevent  the  entrance 
of  the  precious  cargo  they  were  bringing  to 
England?  They  arrived  and  cast  anchor ;  they 
lowered  the  boat  to  reach  the  shore  :  what  were 
they  likely  to  meet  there  ?  Tonstall's  agents 
no  doubt,  and  Wolsey's  and  Henry's,  ready  to 
take  away  their  New  Testaments.  They  land- 
ed, and  soon  again  returned  to  the  ship ;  boats 
passed  to  and  fro,  and  the  vessel  was  unloaded. 
No  enemy  appeared,  and  no  one  seemed  to 
imagine  that  these  ships  contained  so  great 
a  treasure. 

Just  at  the  time  this  invaluable  cargo  was 
ascending  the  river  an  invisible  hand  had  dis- 
persed the  preventive  guard.  Tonstall,  bishop 
of  London,  had  been  sent  to  Spain ;  Wolsey 
was  occupied  in  political  combinations  with 
Scotland,  France  and  the  Empire ;  Henry  VIII., 
driven  from  his  capital  by  an  unhealthy  winter, 
was  passing  the  Christmas  holidays  at  Eltham  ; 


WILLIAM    TYNDALE.  233 

and  even  the  courts  of  justice,  alarmed  by  an 
extraordinary  mortality,  had  suspended  their 
sittings.  God,  if  we  may  so  speak,  had  sent 
his  ang-el  to  remove  the  guards. 

Seeing  nothing  that  could  stop  them,  the  five 
merchants,  whose  establishment  was  at  the 
Steelyard  in  Thames  Street,  hastened  to  conceal 
their  precious  charge  in  their  warehouses.  But 
who  will  receive  them  ?  Who  will  undertake 
to  distribute  these  Holy  Scriptures  in  London, 
Oxford,  Cambridge  and  all  England?  It  is  a 
little  matter  that  they  have  crossed  the  sea. 
The  principal  instrument  God  was  about  to 
use  for  their  dissemination  was  a  humble  ser- 
vant of  Christ. 

In  Honey  Lane,  a  narrow  thoroughfare  ad- 
joining Cheapside,  stood  the  old  church  of  All 
Hallows,  of  which  Robert  Forman  was  the  rec- 
tor. His  curate  was  a  plain  man,  of  lively  im- 
agination, delicate  conscience  and  timid  dispo- 
sition, but  rendered  bold  by  his  faith,  to  which 
he  was  to  become  a  martyr.  Thomas  Garret, 
for  that  was  his  name,  having  believed  in  the 
gospel,  earnestly  called  his  hearers  to  repent- 
ance ;  he  urged  upon  them  that  works,  however 
good  they  might  be  in  appearance,  were  by  no 
means  capable  of  justifying  the  sinner,  and  that 
faith  alone  could  save  him.  He  maintained 
that  every  man  had  the  right  to  preach  the 
word  of  God,  and  called  those  bishops  Phari- 


234  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

sees  who  persecuted  Christian  men.  Garret's 
discourses,  at  once  so  quickening  and  so  gen- 
tle, attracted  great  crowds,  and  to  many  of  his 
hearers  the  street  in  which  he  preached  was 
rightly  named  Honey  Lane,  for  there  they  found 
the  honey  out  of  the  rock.  But  Garret  was 
about  to  commit  a  fault  still  more  heinous  in 
the  eyes  of  the  priests  than  preaching  faith. 
The  Hanse  merchants  were  seeking  some  sure 
place  where  they  might  store  up  the  New  Tes- 
taments and  other  books  sent  from  Germany ; 
the  curate  offered  his  house,  stealthily  trans- 
ported the  holy  deposits  thither,  hid  them  in 
the  most  secret  corners  and  kept  a  faithful 
watch  over  this  sacred  library.  He  did  not 
confine  himself  to  this.  Night  and  day  he  stud- 
ied the  holy  books,  he  held  gospel  meetings, 
read  the  word  and  explained  its  doctrines  to 
the  citizens  of  London.  At  last,  not  satisfied 
with  being  at  once  student,  librarian  and  preach- 
er, he  became  a  trader,  and  sold  the  New  Testa- 
ment to  laymen,  and  even  to  priests  and  monks, 
so  that  the  Holy  Scriptures  were  dispersed  over 
the  whole  realm.  This  humble  and  timid  priest 
was  then  performing  alone  the  biblical  work  of 
England. 

And  thus  the  word  of  God,  presented  by 
Erasmus  to  the  learned  in  151 7,  was  given  to 
the  people  by  Tyndale  in   1526. 

Wolsey  had   not  been   inactive.     The  cardi- 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  235 

nal  hoped  to  find  elsewhere  the  co-operation 
which  Margaret  of  Austria  refused.  It  was 
Tyndale  that  he  wanted,  and  everything  seem- 
ed to  indicate  that  he  was  then  hidden  at  Co- 
logne or  in  its  neighborhood.  Wolsey,  recol- 
lecting Senator  Rincke  and  the  services  he  had 
already  performed,  determined  to  send  to  him 
one  John  West,  a  friar,  of  the  Franciscan  con- 
vent at  Greenwich.  West,  a  somewhat  nar- 
row-minded but  energetic  man,  was  very  de- 
sirous of  distinguishing  himself,  and  he  had 
already  gained  some  notoriety  in  England 
among  the  adversaries  of  the  Reformation. 
Flattered  by  his  mission,  the  vain  monk  imme- 
diately set  off  for  Antwerp,  accompanied  by 
another  friar,  in  order  to  seize  Tyndale,  and 
even  Roye,  once  his  colleague  at  Greenwich, 
and  against  whom  he  had  there  ineffectually 
contended  in  argument. 

While  these  men  were  conspiring  his  ruin 
Tyndale  composed  several  works,  got  them 
printed  and  sent  them  to  England,  and  prayed 
God  night  and  day  to  enlighten  his  fellow- 
countrymen.  "  Why  do  you  give  yourself  so 
much  trouble  ?"  said  some  of  his  friends  ;  "  they 
will  burn  your  books  as  they  have  burnt  the 
gospel." — They  will  only  do  what  I  expect," 
replied  he,  "  if  they  burn  me  also."  Already  he 
beheld  his  own  burning  pile  in  the  distance,  but 
it  was  a  sight  which  only  served  to  increase  his 


236  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

zeal.  Hidden,  like  Luther  at  the  Wartbiirg — 
not,  however,  in  a  castle,  but  in  a  humble  lodg- 
ing— Tyndale,  like  the  Saxon  Reformer,  spent 
his  days  and  nights  translating  the  Bible.  Bur 
not  having  an  elector  of  Saxony  to  protect  him, 
he  was  forced  to  change  his  residence  from  time 
to  time. 

At  this  epoch,  Fryth,  who  had  escaped  from 
the  prisons  of  Oxford,  rejoined  Tyndale,  and 
the  sweets  of  friendship  softened  the  bitterness 
of  their  exile.  Tyndale  having  finished  the 
New  Testament  and  begun  the  translation  of 
the  Old,  the  learned  Fryth  was  of  great  use 
to  him.  The  more  they  studied  the  word  of 
God,  the  more  they  admired  it.  In  the  begin- 
ning of  1529  they  published  the  books  of  Gene- 
sis and  Deuteronomy,  and,  addressing  their  fel- 
low-countrymen, they  said,  "  As  thou  readest, 
think  that  every  syllable  pertaineth  to  thine 
own  self,  and  suck  out  the  pith  of  the  Scrip- 
ture." Then,  denying  that  visible  signs  natu- 
rally impart  grace,  as  the  schoolmen  had  pre- 
tended, Tyndale  maintained  that  the  sacraments 
are  effectual  only  when  the  Holy  Ghost  sheds 
his  influence  upon  them.  "  The  ceremonies  of 
the  law,"  he  wrote,  "  stood  the  Israelites  in  the 
same  stead  as  the  sacraments  do  us.  We  are 
saved  not  by  the  power  of  the  sacrifice  or  the 
deed  itself,  but  by  virtue  oi  faith  in  the  promise^ 
whereof  the  sacrifice  or  ceremony  was  a  token 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  237 

or  sign.  The  Holy  Ghost  Is  no  dumb  God,  no 
God  that  goeth  a-mummlng.  Wherever  the 
word  is  proclaimed  this  inward  witness  work- 
eth.  If  baptism  preach  me  the  washing  in 
Christ's  blood,  so  doth  the  Holy  Ghost  accom- 
pany it,  and  that  deed  of  preaching  through 
faith  doth  put  away  my  sins.  The  ark  of 
Noah  saved  them  in  the  water  through  faith." 

The  man  who  dared  address  England  in 
language  so  contrary  to  the  teaching  of  the 
Middle  Ages  must  be  imprisoned.  John  West, 
who  had  been  sent  with  this  object,  arrived  at 
Antwerp  ;  Hackett  procured  for  him  as  inter- 
preter a  friar  of  English  descent,  made  him 
assume  a  secular  dress  and  gave  him  "  three 
pounds"  on  the  cardinal's  account:  the  less 
attention  the  embassy  attracted,  the  more  like- 
ly it  would  be  to  succeed.  But  great  was 
West's  vexation  on  reachinof  Cologne  to  learn 
that  Rincke  was  at  Frankfort.  But  that  mat- 
tered not ;  the  Greenwich  monk  could  search 
for  Tyndale  at  Cologne,  and  desire  Rincke  to 
do  the  same  at  Frankfort ;  thus  there  would 
be  two  searches  instead  of  one.  West  pro- 
cured a  "  swift "  messenger  (he  too  was  a 
monk),  and  gave  him  the  letter  Wolsey  had 
addressed  to  Rincke. 

It  was  fair-time  at  Frankfort,  and  the  city 
was  filled  with  merchants  and  their  wares. 
As  soon  as  Rincke  had  finished  reading  Wol- 


238  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

sey's  letter  he  hastened  to  the  burgomasters, 
and  required  them  to  confiscate  the  English 
translation  of  the  Scriptures,  and,  above  all, 
to  seize  '*  the  heretic  who  was  troubling  Eng- 
land as  Luther  troubled  Germany." — "  Tyn- 
dale  and  his  friends  have  not  appeared  in  our 
fairs  since  the  month  of  March,  1528,"  replied 
the  magistrates,  "  and  we  know  not  whether 
they  are  dead  or  alive." 

Rincke  was  not  discouraged.  John  Schoot 
of  Strasburg,  who  was  said  to  have  printed 
Tyndale's  books,  and  who  cared  less  about 
the  works  he  published  than  the  money  he 
drew  from  them,  happened  to  be  at  Frank- 
fort. "Where  is  Tyndale?"  Rincke  asked 
him. — "  I  do  not  know,"  replied  the  printer, 
but  he  confessed  that  he  had  printed  a  thou- 
sand volumes  at  the  request  of  Tyndale  and 
Roye. — "Bring  them  to  me," continued  the  sen- 
ator of  Cologne. — "  If  a  fair  price  is  paid  me  I 
will  give  them  up  to  you."  Rincke  paid  all 
that  was  demanded. 

Wolsey  would  now  be  gratified,  for  the 
New  Testament  annoyed  him  almost  as  much 
as  the  divorce :  this  book,  so  dangerous  in 
his  eyes,  seemed  on  the  point  of  raising  a 
conflagration  which  would  infallibly  consume 
the  edifice  of  Romish  traditionalism.  Rincke, 
who  participated  in  his  patron's  fears,  impa- 
tiently opened  the  volumes  made  over  to  him ; 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  239 

but  there  was  a  sad  mistake :  they  were  not 
the  New  Testament,  not  even  a  work  of  Tyn- 
dale's,  but  one  written  by  William  Roye,  a 
changeable  and  violent  man  whom  the  Re- 
former had  employed  for  some  time  at  Ham- 
burg, and  who  had  followed  him  to  Cologne, 
but  with  whom  he  had  soon  become  disgust- 
ed. "  I  bade  him  farewell  for  our  two  lives," 
said  Tyndale,  "  and  a  day  longer."  Roye,  on 
quitting  the  Reformer,  had  gone  to  Strasburg, 
where  he  boasted  of  his  relations  with  him, 
and  had  got  printed  in  that  city  a  satire  against 
Wolsey  and  the  monastic  orders  entitled  The 
Burial  of  the  Mass :  this  was  the  book  deliver- 
ed to  Rincke.  The  monk's  sarcastic  spirit  had 
exceeded  the  legitimate  bounds  of  controversy, 
and  the  senator  accordingly  dared  not  send  the 
volumes  to  England.  He  did  not,  however,  dis- 
continue his  inquiries,  but  searched  every  place 
where  he  thought  he  could  discover  the  New 
Testament,  and  having  seized  all  the  suspected 
volumes  set  off  for  Cologne. 

Yet  he  was  not  satisfied.  He  wanted  Tyn- 
dale, and  went  about  asking  every  one  if  they 
knew  where  to  find  him.  But  the  Reformer, 
whom  he  was  seeking  in  so  many  places,  and 
especially  at  Frankfort  and  Cologne,  chanced 
to  be  residing  at  about  an  equal  distance  from 
these  two  towns ;  so  that  Rincke,  while  travel- 
ing from  one  to  the  other,  might  have  met  him 


240  MARTYRS   OF   THE    REFORMATION. 

face  to  face,  as  Ahab's  messenger  met  Elijah. 
Tyndale  was  at  Marburg,  whither  he  had  been 
drawn  by  several  motives.  Prince  Philip  of 
Hesse  was  the  great  protector  of  the  evangel- 
ical doctrines.  The  university  had  attracted 
attention  in  the  Reform  by  the  paradoxes  of 
Lambert  of  Avignon.  Here  a  young  Scots- 
man named  Hamilton,  afterward  illustrious  as 
a  martyr,  had  studied  shortly  before,  and  here 
too  the  celebrated  printer,  John  Luft,  had  his 
presses.  In  this  city  Tyndale  and  Fryth  had 
taken  up  their  abode  in  September,  1528,  and, 
hidden  on  the  quiet  banks  of  the  Lahn,  were 
translatinof  the  Old  Testament.  If  Rincke  had 
searched  this  place  he  could  not  have  failed  to 
discover  them.  But  either  he  thought  not  of 
it,  or  was  afraid  of  the  terrible  landgrave.  The 
direct  road  by  the  Rhine  was  that  which  he  fol- 
lowed, and  Tyndale  escaped. 

When  he  arrived  at  Cologne,  Rincke  had  an 
immediate  interview  with  West.  Their  inves- 
tigations having  failed,  they  must  have  recourse 
to  more  vigorous  measures.  The  senator 
therefore  sent  the  monk  back  to  England,  ac- 
companied by  his  son  Hermann,  charging  them 
to  tell  Wolsey,  "To  seize  Tyndale  we  require 
fuller  powers,  ratified  by  the  emperor.  The  trai- 
tors who  conspire  against  the  life  of  the  king 
of  England  are  not  tolerated  in  the  Empire, 
much  less  Tyndale  and  all  those  who  conspire 


WILLIAM    TYNDALE.  24 1 

against  Christendom.  He  must  be  put  to 
death ;  nothing  but  some  striking  example  can 
check  the  Lutheran  heresy.  And  as  to  our- 
selves," they  were  told  to  add,  "  by  the  favor 
of  God  there  may  possibly  be  an  opportunity 
for  His  Royal  Highness  and  Your  Grace  to 
recompense  us."  Rincke  had  not  forgotten 
the  subsidy  of  ten  thousand  pounds  which  he 
had  received  from  Henry  VII.  for  the  Turkish 
war  when  he  had  gone  to  London  as  Maximil- 
ian's envoy. 

In  June,  1529,  there  appeared  A  Dialogue  of 
Sir  Thomas  More,  Knt.,  touching  the  pestilent 
Sect  of  Luther  and  Tyndale,  by  the  one  begun  in 
Saxo7iy,  and  by  the  other  labored  to  be  bi^ought 
into  Englaiid. 

Tyndale  soon  became  informed  of  More's 
publication,  and  a  remarkable  combat  ensued 
between  these  two  representatives  of  the  two 
doctrines  that  were  destined  to  divide  Christen- 
dom— Tynjdale  the  champion  of  Scripture,  and 
More  the  champion  of  the  Church.  More  hav- 
ing called  his  book  a  Dialogue,  Tyndale  adopt- 
ed this  form  in  his  reply,  and  the  two  combat- 
ants valiantly  crossed  their  swords,  though  wide 
seas  lay  between  them.  This  theological  duel 
is  not  without  importance  in  the  history  of  the 
Reformation.  The  struggles  of  diplomacy,  of 
sacerdotalism  and  of  royalty  were  not  enough  ; 
there  must  be   struggles   of   doctrine.      Rome 

16 


242  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

had  set  the  hierarchy  above  the  faith ;  the  Ref- 
ormation was  to  restore  faith  to  its  place  above 
the  hierarchy. 

More.  Christ  said  not,  The  Holy  Ghost  shall 
writey  but  shall  teach.  Whatsoever  the  Church 
says,  it  is  the  word  of  God,  though  it  be  not  in 
Scripture. 

Tyndale.  What !  Christ  and  the  apostles  not 
spoken  of  Sndptures !  "  These  are  written," 
says  St.  John,  "  that  ye  believe,  and  through 
belief  have  life"  (i  John  ii.  i;  Rom.  xv.  4; 
Matt.  xxii.  29). 

More.  The  apostles  have  taught  by  mouth 
many  things  they  did  not  write,  because  they 
should  not  come  into  the  hands  of  the  heathen 
for  mocking. 

Tyndale.  I  pray  you,  what  thing  more  to  be 
mocked  by  the  heathen  could  they  teach  than 
the  resurrection,  and  that  Christ  was  God  and 
man  and  died  between  two  thieves  ?  And  yet 
all  these  things  the  apostles  wrote.  And  again, 
purgatory,  penance  and  satisfaction  for  sin,  and 
praying  to  saints,  are  marvelous  agreeable  unto 
the  superstition  of  the  heathen  people,  so  that 
they  need  not  to  abstain  from  writing  of  them 
for  fear  lest  the  heathen  should  have  mocked 
them. 

More.  We  must  not  examine  the  teaching 
of  the  Church  by  Scripture,  but  understand 
Scripture  by  means  of  what  the  Church  says. 


WILLIAM    TYiVDALE.  243 

Tyndale.  What !  Does  the  air  give  Hght  to 
the  sun,  or  the  sun  to  the  air  ?  Is  the  Church 
before  the  gospel,  or  the  gospel  before  the 
Church  ?  Is  not  the  father  older  than  the  son  ? 
'*  God  begat  us  with  his  own  will,  with  the  word 
of  truth,"  says  St.  James  (i.  i8).  If  He  who 
begetteth  is  before  him  who  is  begotten,  the 
word  is  before  the  Church,  or,  to  speak  more 
correctly,  before  the  congregation. 

More.  Why  do  you  say  congregation  and 
not    Church  ? 

Tyndale.  Because  by  that  word  Church  you 
understand  nothing  but  a  multitude  of  shorn 
and  oiled,  which  we  now  call  the  spirituality 
or  clergy ;  while  the  word  of  right  is  common 
unto  all  the  congregation  of  them  that  believe 
in  Christ. 

More.  The  Church  is  the  pope  and  his  sect 
or  followers. 

Tyndale,  The  pope  teacheth  us  to  trust  in 
holy  works  for  salvation,  as  penance,  saints' 
merits  and  friars'  coats.  Now,  he  that  hath 
no  faith  to  be  saved  through  Christ  is  not  of 
Christ's  Church. 

More.  The  Romish  Church,  from  which  the 
Lutherans  came  out,  was  before  them,  and  there- 
fore is  the  right  one. 

Tyjidale.  In  like  manner  you  may  say  the 
Church  of  the  Pharisees,  whence  Christ  and  his 
apostles  came  out,  was  before  them,  and  was 


244  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

therefore   the   right  Church,  and   consequently 
Christ  and  his  disciples  are  heretics. 

More.  No :  the  apostles  came  out  from 
the  Church  of  the  Pharisees  because  they 
found  not  Christ  there ;  but  your  priests  in 
Germany  and  elsewhere  have  come  out  of 
our    Church    because    they    wanted    wives. 

Tyndale,  Wrong !  These  priests  were  at 
first  attached  to  what  you  call  heresies,  and 
then  they  took  wives ;  but  yours  were  first 
attached  to  the  holy  doctrine  of  the  pope, 
and    then    they    took    harlots. 

More.  Luther's  books  be  open,  if  ye  will 
not  believe  us. 

Tyndale.  Nay,  ye  have  shut  them  up,  and 
have  even  burnt  them. 

More.  I  marvel  that  you  deny  purgatory,  Sir 
William,  except  it  be  a  plain  point  with  you  to 
go  straight  to  hell. 

Tyndale.  I  know  no  other  purging  but  faith 
in  the  cross  of  Christ ;  while  you,  for  a  groat  or 
a  sixpence,  buy  some  secret  pills  [indulgences], 
which  you  take  to  purge  yourselves  of  your 
sins. 

More.  Faith,  then,  is  your  purgatory,  you 
say ;  there  is  no  need,  therefore,  of  works — 
a  most  immoral  doctrine ! 

Tyndale.  It  is  faith  alone  that  saves  us,  but 
not  a  bare  faith.  When  a  horse  beareth  a  saddle 
and  a  man  thereon,  we  may  well  say  that  the 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  245 

horse  only  and  alone  beareth  the  saddle,  but 
we  do  not  mean  the  saddle  empty  and  no 
man    thereon. 

In  this  manner  did  the  Catholic  and  the  evan- 
gelical carry  on  the  discussion.  According  to 
Tyndale,  what  constitutes  the  true  Church  is 
the  work  of  the  Holy  Ghost  within  ;  according 
to  More,  the  constitution  of  the  papacy  with- 
out. The  spiritual  character  of  the  gospel  is 
thus  put  in  opposition  to  the  formalist  charac- 
ter of  the  Romish  Church.  The  Reformation 
restored  to  our  belief  the  solid  foundation  of 
the  word  of  God ;  for  the  sand  it  substituted 
the  rock.  In  the  discussion  to  which  we  have 
just  been  listening  the  advantage  remained  not 
with  the  Catholic.  Erasmus,  a  friend  of  More's, 
embarrassed  by  the  course  the  latter  was  tak- 
ing, wrote  to  Tonstall,  "  I  cannot  heartily  con- 
gratulate  More." 

Henry  interrupted  the  celebrated  knight  in 
these  contests  to  send  him  to  Cambray,  where 
a  peace  was  negotiating  between  France  and 
the  Empire.  Wolsey  would  have  been  pleased 
to  go  himself,  but  his  enemies  suggested  to  the 
king  that  "  it  was  only  that  he  might  not  expe- 
dite the  matter  of  the  divorce."  Henry  there- 
fore despatched  More,  Knight  and  Tonstall,  but 
Wolsey  had  created  so  many  delays  that  they 
did  not  arrive  until  after  the  conclusion  of  the 
"Ladies'  Peace"   (August,   1529).     The  king's 


246  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

vexation  was  extreme.  Du  Bellay  had  in  vain 
helped  him  to  spend  a  good  preparatory  July  to 
make  him  swallow  the  dose.  Henry  was  angry 
with  Wolsey ;  Wolsey  threw  the  blame  on  the 
ambassador ;  and  the  ambassador  defended 
himself,  he  tells  us,  "  with  tooth  and  nail." 
By  way  of  compensation,  the  English  envoys 
concluded  with  the  emperor  a  treaty  prohibit- 
ing on  both  sides  the  printing  and  sale  of  "  any 
Lutheran  books."  Some  of  them  could  have 
wished  for  a  good  persecution,  for  a  few  burn- 
ing piles,  it  may  be.  A  singular  opportunity 
occurred.  In  the  spring  of  1529,  Tyndale  and 
Fryth  had  left  Marburg  for  Antwerp,  and  were 
thus  in  the  vicinity  of  the  English  envoys. 
What  West  had  been  unable  to  effect,  it  was 
thought  the  two  most  intelligent  men  in  Britain 
could  not  fail  to  accomplish.  "  Tyndale  must 
be  captured,"  said  More  to  Tonstall. — "You 
do  not  know  what  sort  of  a  country  you  are 
in,"  replied  Hackett.  "  Will  you  believe  that 
on  the  7th  of  April,  Harman  arrested  me  at 
Antwerp  for  damages  caused  by  his  imprison- 
ment ?  '  If  you  can  lay  anything  to  my  charge 
as  a  private  individual,'  I  said  to  the  officer,  '  I 
am  ready  to  answer  for  myself;  but  if  you  ar- 
rest me  as  ambassador,  I  know  no  judge  but 
the  emperor.'  Upon  which  the  procurator  had 
the  audacity  to  reply  that  I  was  arrested  as  am- 
bassador;  and  the  lords  of  Antwerp  only  set  me 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  247 

at  liberty  on  condition  that  I  should  appear  again 

at  the  first  summons.     These  merchants  are  so 

proud  of  their  franchises  that  they  would  resist 

even  Charles  himself."     This  anecdote  was  not 

at  all  calculated  to  encourage   More,  and  not 

caring  about  a  pursuit  which  promised  to  be 

of  little  use,  he  returned  to  Enorland.     But  the 
'  <_> 

bishop  of  London,  who  was  left  behind,  per- 
sisted in  the  project,  and  repaired  to  Antwerp 
to  put  it  in   execution. 

Tyndale  was  at  that  time  greatly  embarrass- 
ed ;  considerable  debts,  incurred  with  his  print- 
ers, compelled  him  to  suspend  his  labors.  Nor 
was  this  all :  the  prelate  who  had  spurned  him 
so  harshly  in  London  had  just  arrived  in  the 
very  city  where  he  lay  concealed.  What  would 
become  of  him?  A  merchant  named  Auo-ustln 
Packington,  a  clever  man,  but  somewhat  inclin- 
ed to  dissimulation,  happening  to  be  at  Antwerp 
on  business,  hastened  to  pay  his  respects  to  the 
bishop.  The  latter  observed  In  the  course  of 
conversation,  ''  I  should  like  to  o-et  hold  of  the 
books  with  which  England  Is  poisoned." — "  I 
can  perhaps  serve  you  In  that  matter,"  replied 
the  merchant.  ''  I  know  the  Flemings  who  have 
bought  Tyndale's  books  ;  so  that  If  your  lord- 
ship will  be  pleased  to  pay  for  them,  I  will  make 
sure  of  them  all." — "  Oh,  oh !"  thought  the  bishop ; 
"now,  as  the  proverb  says,  I  shall  have  God  by 
the  toe. — Gentle  Master  Packington,"  he  added 


248  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

in  a  flattering  tone,  "  I  will  pay  for  them  whatso- 
ever they  cost  you.  I  intend  to  burn  them  at 
St.  Paul's  Cross."  The  bishop,  having  his  hand 
already  on  Tyndale's  Testaments,  fancied  him- 
self on  the  point  of  seizing  Tyndale  himself. 

Packington,  being  one  of  those  men  who  love 
to  conciliate  all  parties,  ran  off  to  Tyndale,  with 
whom  he  was  intimate,  and  said,  "  William,  I 
know  you  are  a  poor  man,  and  have  a  heap 
of  New  Testaments  and  books  by  you,  for 
which  you  have  beggared  yourself;  and  I  have 
now  found  a  merchant  who  will  buy  them  all, 
and  with  ready  money  too." — "Who  is  the 
merchant  ?"  said  Tyndale. — "  The  bishop  of 
London." — ''Tonstall?  If  he  buys  my  books, 
it  can  only  be  to  burn  them." — "  No  doubt,"  an- 
swered Packington,  "  but  what  will  he  gain  by 
it?  The  whole  world  will  cry  out  against  the 
priest  who  burns  God's  word,  and  the  eyes  of 
many  will  be  opened.  Come,  make  up  your 
mind,  William ;  the  bishop  shall  have  the  books, 
you  the  money,  and  I  the  thanks."  Tyndale  re- 
sisted the  proposal ;  Packington  became  more 
pressing.  "  The  question  comes  to  this,"  he 
said :  "  shall  the  bishop  pay  for  the  books,  or 
shall  he  not?  for,  make  up  your  mind,  he  will 
have  them." — "  I  consent,"  said  the  Reformer 
at  last ;  "  I  shall  pay  my  debts  and  bring  out  a 
new  and  more  correct  edition  of  the  Testa- 
ment."    The  baroain  was  made. 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE,  249 

Ere  long  the  dangers  thickened  around  Tyn- 
dale.  Placards  posted  at  Antwerp  and  through- 
out the  province  announced  that  the  emperor, 
in  conformity  with  the  treaty  of  Cambray,  was 
about  to  proceed  against  the  Reformers  and 
their  writings.  Not  an  officer  of  justice  ap- 
peared in  the  street  but  Tyndale's  friends  trem- 
bled for  his  liberty.  Under  such  circumstances 
how  could  he  print  his  translation  of  Genesis 
and  Deuteronomy  ?  He  made  up  his  mind 
about  the  end  of  August  to  go  to  Hamburg, 
and  took  his  passage  in  a  vessel  loading  for 
that  port.  Embarking  with  his  books,  his  manu- 
scripts and  the  rest  of  his  money,  he  glided  down 
the  Scheldt,  and  soon  found  himself  afloat  on  the 
German  Ocean. 

But  one  danger  followed  close  upon  another. 
He  had  scarcely  passed  the  mouth  of  the  Meuse 
when  a  tempest  burst  upon  him,  and  his  ship, 
like  that  of  old  which  bore  St.  Paul,  was  almost 
swallowed  up  by  the  waves.  "  Satan,  envying 
the  happy  course  and  success  of  the  gospel," 
says  a  chronicler,  "  set  to  his  might  how  to 
hinder  the  blessed  labors  of  this  man."  The 
seamen  toiled,  Tyndale  prayed,  all  hope  was 
lost.  The  Reformer  alone  was  full  of  courage, 
not  doubting  that  God  would  preserve  him  for 
the  accomplishment  of  his  work.  All  the  exer- 
tions of  the  crew  proved  useless ;  the  vessel 
was  dashed   on  the  coast,  but  the  passengers 


250  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

escaped  with  their  lives.  Tyndale  gazed  with 
sorrow  upon  that  ocean  which  had  swallowed 
up  his  beloved  books  and  precious  manuscripts 
and  deprived  him  of  his  resources.  What  la- 
bors !  what  perils !  banishment,  poverty,  thirst, 
insults,  watchings,  persecution,  imprisonment, 
the  stake !  Like  Paul,  he  was  in  perils  by  his 
own  countrymen,  In  perils  among  strange  peo- 
ple, in  perils  In  the  city,  In  perils  In  the  sea. 
Recovering  his  spirits,  however,  he  went  on 
board  another  ship,  entered  the  Elbe,  and  at 
last   reached   Hamburg. 

Great  joy  was  In  store  for  him  in  that  city. 
Coverdale,  Fox  informs  us,  was  waiting  there  to 
confer  with  him  and  to  help  him  in  his  labors. 
It  has  been  supposed  that  Coverdale  went  to 
Hamburg  to  invite  Tyndale,  In  Cromwell's  name, 
to  return  to  England ;  but  It  is  merely  a  conjec- 
ture, and  requires  confirmation.  As  early  as 
1527,  Coverdale  had  made  known  to  Cromwell 
his  desire  to  translate  the  Scriptures.  It  was 
natural  that,  meeting  with  difficulties  In  this 
undertaking,  he  should  desire  to  converse  with 
Tyndale.  The  two  friends  lodged  with  a  pious 
woman  named  Margaret  van  Emmersen,  and 
spent  some  time  together  In  the  autumn  of 
1529,  undisturbed  by  the  sweating  sickness, 
which  was  making  such  cruel  havoc  all  around 

them.     Coverdale  returned  to  Enoland  short- 
en 

ly  after ;  the  two  Reformers  had  no  doubt  dis- 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  25  I 

covered  that  it  was  better  for  eacJi  of  them  to 
trauslate  the  Scriptures  sepai^ately. 

Before  Coverdale's  return  Tonstall  had  gone 
back  to  London,  exulting  at  carrying  with  him 
the  books  he  had  bought  so  dearly.  But  when 
he  reached  the  capital  he  thought  he  had  better 
defer  the  meditated  auto  da  fe  until  some  strik- 
ing event  should  give  it  increased  importance. 
And  besides,  just  at  that  moment  very  differ- 
ent matters  were  engaging  public  attention  on 
the  banks  of  the  Thames,  and  the  liveliest  emo- 
tions agitated  every  mind. 

Henry  VIII.,  finding  that  he  wanted  men  like 
Latimer  to  resist  the  pope,  sought  to  win  over 
others  of  the  same  stamp.  He  found  one  whose 
lofty  range  he  understood  immediately.  Thom- 
as Cromwell  had  laid  before  him  a  book  then 
very  eagerly  read  all  over  England — namely, 
the  Practice  of  Prelates.  It  was  found  in  the 
houses  not  only  of  the  citizens  of  London,  but 
of  the  farmers  of  Essex,  Suffolk  and  other  coun- 
ties. The  king  read  it  quite  as  eagerly  as  his 
subjects.  Nothing  interested  him  like  the  his- 
tory of  the  slow  but  formidable  progress  of  the 
priesthood  and  prelacy.  One  parable  in  par- 
ticular struck  him,  in  which  the  oak  represented 
royalty,  and  the  ivy  the  papacy :  "  First,  the  ivy 
springeth  out  of  the  earth,  and  then  a  while 
creepeth  along  by  the  ground  till  it  find  a  great 
tree.     There  it  jolneth  itself  beneath  alow  unto 


252  MARTYRS  OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

the  body  of  the  tree,  and  creepeth  up  a  httle  and  a 
Httle,  fair  and  softly.  And  at  the  beginning,  while 
it  is  yet  thin  and  small,  that  the  burden  is  not  per- 
ceived, it  seemeth  glorious  to  garnish  the  tree 
in  the  winter  and  to  bear  off  the  tempests  of 
the  weather.  But  in  the  mean  season  it  thrust- 
eth  roots  into  the  bark  of  the  tree  to  hold  fast 
withal,  and  ceaseth  not  to  climb  up  till  it  be  at 
the  top  and  above  all.  And  then  it  sendeth 
its  branches  along  by  the  branches  of  the  tree, 
and  overgroweth  all,  and  waxeth  great,  heavy 
and  thick,  and  sucketh  the  moisture  so  sore  out 
of  the  tree  and  its  branches  that  it  choketh  and 
stifleth  them.  And  then  the  foul,  stinking  ivy 
waxeth  mighty  in  the  stump  of  the  tree,  and 
becometh  a  seat  and  a  nest  for  all  unclean  birds 
and  for  blind  owls,  which  hawk  in  the  dark  and 
dare  not  come  at  the  light.  Even  so  the  bish- 
op of  Rome  at  the  beginning  crept  along  upon 
the  earth.  .  .  .  He  crept  up  and  fastened  his 
roots  in  the  heart  of  the  emperor,  and  by  sub- 
tilty  clamb  above  the  emperor  and  subdued 
him,  and  made  him  stoop  unto  his  feet  and  kiss 
them  another  while.  Yea,  when  he  had  put 
the  crown  on  the  emperor's  head,  he  smote  it 
off  with  his  feet  again."  Henry  would  willing- 
ly have  clapped  his  hand  on  his  sword  to  de- 
mand satisfaction  of  the  pope  for  this  outrage. 
The  book  was  by  Tyndale.  Laying  it  down, 
the   king   reflected  on  what  he  had  just  read, 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  253 

and  thought  to  himself  that  the  author  had  some 
striking  ideas  "  on  the  accursed  power  of  the 
pope,"  and  that  he  was  besides  gifted  with  tal- 
ent and  zeal,  and  mi^ht  render  excellent  service 
toward  abolishing  the  papacy  in  England.  Hen- 
ry ordered  Stephen  Vaughan,  one  of  his  agents, 
then  at  Antwerp,  to  try  and  find  the  Reformer 
in  Brabant,  Flanders,  on  the  banks  of  the  Rhine, 
in  Holland,  .  .  .  wherever  he  might  chance  to 
be ;  to  offer  him  a  safe-conduct  under  the  sign- 
manual,  to  prevail  on  him  to  return  to  England, 
and  to  add  the  most  gracious  promises  in  be- 
half of  His  Majesty. 

To  gain  over  Tyndale  seemed  even  more  im- 
portant than  to  have  gained  Latimer.  Vaughan 
immediately  undertook  to  seek  him  in  Antwerp, 
where  he  was  said  to  be,  but  could  not  find  him. 
"  He  is  at  Marburg,"  said  one  ;  "  At  Frankfort," 
said  another;  "At  Hamburg,"  declared  a  third. 
Tyndale  was  invisible  now  as  before.  To  make 
more  certain,  Vaughan  determined  to  write  three 
letters  directed  to  those  three  places,  conjuring 
him  to  return  to  England.  "  I  have  great  hopes," 
said  the  English  agent  to  his  friends,  "  of  having 
done  something  that  will  please  His  Majesty." 
Tyndale,  the  most  scriptural  of  English  Refor- 
mers, the  most  inflexible  in  his  faith,  laboring 
at  the  Reformation  with  the  cordial  approbation 
of  the  monarch,  would  trulv  have  been  some- 
thing  extraordinary. 


254  MARTYRS   OF   THE    REFORMATION. 

Scarcely  had  the  three  letters  been  despatch- 
ed when  Vaughan  heard  of  the  ignominious 
chastisement  inflicted  by  Sir  Thomas  More  on 
Tyndale's  brother.  Was  it  by  such  indignities 
that  Henry  expected  to  attract  the  Reformer? 
Vaughan,  much  annoyed,  wrote  to  the  king 
(26th  January,  1531)  that  this  event  would 
make  Tyndale  think  they  wanted  to  entrap 
him,    and    he    gave    up    looking   after   him. 

Three  months  later  (17th  April),  as  Vaughan 
was  busy  copying  one  of  Tyndale's  manuscripts 
in  order  to  send  it  to  Henry  (it  was  his  answer 
to  the  Dialogue  of  Sir  Thomas  More),  a  man 
knocked  at  his  door.  "  Some  one,  who  calls 
himself  a  friend  of  yours  desires  very  much  to 
speak  with  you,"  said  the  stranger,  "  and  begs 
you  to  follow  me." — "Who  is  this  friend? 
Where  is  he  ?"  asked  Vaughan. — "  I  do  not 
know  him,"  replied  the  messenger,  ''  but  come 
along,  and  you  will  see  for  yourself."  Vaughan 
doubted  whether  it  was  prudent  to  follow  this 
person  to  a  strange  place.  He  made  up  his 
mind,  however,  to  accompany  him.  The  agent 
of  Henry  VIIl.  and  the  messenger  threaded  the 
streets  of  Antwerp,  went  out  of  the  city,  and  at 
last  reached  a  lonely  field,  by  the  side  of  which 
the  Scheldt  flowed  sluggishly  through  the  level 
country.  As  he  advanced,  Vaughan  saw  a  man 
of  noble  bearing,  who  appeared  to  be  about 
fifty   years    of  age.     "  Do    you    not    recognize 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  255 

me  ?"  he  asked  Vaiighan. — ''  I  cannot  call  to 
mind  your  features,"  answered  the  latter. — 
"  My  name  is  Tyndale,"  said  the  stranger. — 
"Tyndale!"  exclaimed  Vaughan,  with  delight. 
''  Tyndale  !   what  a  happy  meeting !" 

Tyndale,  who  had  heard  of  Henry's  new 
plans,  had  no  confidence  either  in  the  prince  or 
in  his  pretended  Reformation.  The  king's  end- 
less negotiations  with  the  pope,  his  worldliness, 
his  amours,  his  persecutions  of  evangelical 
Christians,  and  especially  the  ignominious  pun- 
ishment inflicted  on  John  Tyndale, — all  these 
matters  disgusted  him.  However,  havino-  been 
informed  of  the  nature  of  Vaughan's  mission, 
he  desired  to  turn  it  to  advantage  by  address- 
ing a  few  warnings  to  the  prince.  "  I  have 
written  certain  books,"  he  said,  "  to  warn  Your 
Majesty  of  the  subtle  demeanor  of  the  clergy 
of  your  realm  toward  your  person,  in  which 
doing  I  showed  the  heart  of  a  true  subject,  to 
the  intent  that  Your  Grace  might  prepare  your 
remedies  against  their  subtle  dreams.  An  exile 
from  my  native  country,  I  suffer  hunger,  thirst, 
cold,  absence  of  friends.  Everywhere  encom- 
passed with  great  danger,  in  innumerable  hard 
and  sharp  fightings,  I  do  not  feel  their  asperity, 
by  reason  that  I  hope  with  my  labors  to  do  hon- 
or to  God,  true  service  to  my  prince  and  pleas- 
ure to  his  commons." 

"Cheer  up,"  said  Vaughan  ;  "your  exile,  pov- 


256  MARTYRS    OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

erty,  fightings,  all  are  at  an  end ;  you  can  return 
to  England." — "  What  matters  it,"  said  Tyndale, 
"if  my  exile  finishes,  so  long  as  the  Bible  is 
banished  ?  Has  the  king  forgotten  that  God 
has  commanded  his  word  to  be  spread  through- 
out the  world  ?  If  it  continues  to  be  forbidden 
to  his  subjects,  very  death  were  more  pleasant 
to  me  than  life." 

Vaughan  did  not  consider  himself  worsted. 
The  messenger,  who  remained  at  a  distance 
and  could  hear  nothing,  was  astonished  at  see- 
ing the  two  men  in  that  solitary  field  conversing 
together  so  lone  and  with  so  much  animation. 
"  Tell  me  what  guarantees  you  desire,"  said 
Vaughan  :  "  the  king  will  grant  them  you." — 
"  Of  course  the  king  would  give  me  a  safe-con- 
duct," answered  Tyndale,  "  but  the  clergy  would 
persuade  him  that  promises  made  to  heretics 
are  not  binding."  Night  was  coming  on. 
Henry's  agent  might  have  had  Tyndale  follow- 
ed and  seized.  The  Idea  occurred  to  Vaughan, 
but  he  rejected  it.  Tyndale,  began,  however,  to 
feel  himself  ill  at  ease.  "Farewell,"  he  said;  "  you 
shall  see  me  again  before  long,  or  hear  news  of 
me."  He  then  departed,  walking  away  from  Ant- 
werp. Vaughan,  who  re-entered  the  city,  was  sur- 
prised to  see  Tyndale  make  for  the  open  country. 
He  supposed  it  to  be  a  stratagem,  and  once  more 
doubted  whether  he  ou^ht  not  to  have  seized  the 
Reformer  to  please  his  master.     "  I  might  have 


WILLIAM   l^YNDALE.  25/ 

failed  of  my  purpose,"  he  said.     Besides,  it  was 
now  too  late,  for  Tyndale  had  disappeared. 

As  soon  as  Vaughan  reached  home  he  has- 
tened to  send  to  London  an  account  of  this 
singular  conference.  Cromwell  immediately 
proceeded  to  court  and  laid  before  the  king 
the  envoy's  letter  and  the  Reformer's  book. 
'*Good!"  said  Henry;  "as  soon  as  I  have  leis- 
ure, I  will  read  them  both."  He  did  so,  and 
was  exasperated  against  Tyndale,  who  refused 
his  invitation,  mistrusted  his  word,  and  even 
dared  to  give  him  advice.  The  king  in  his 
passion  tore  off  the  latter  part  of  Vaughan's  let- 
ter, flung  it  in  the  fire,  and  entirely  gave  up  his 
idea  of  brinorinor  the  Reformer  into  Enorland  to 
make  use  of  him  against  the  pope,  fearing  that 
such  a  torch  would  set  the  whole  kingdom  in  a 
blaze.  He  thought  only  how  he  could  seize 
him  and  punish  him  for  his  arrogance. 

He  sent  for  Cromwell.  Before  him  on  the 
table  lay  the  treatise  by  Tyndale  which  Vaughan 
had  copied  and  sent.  "  These  pages,"  said  Hen- 
ry to  his  minister  while  pointing  to  the  manu- 
script,— "these  pages  are  the  work  of  a  vision- 
ary ;  they  are  full  of  lies,  sedition  and  calumny. 
Vaughan  shows  too  much  affection  for  Tyndale. 
Let  him  beware  of  inviting  him  to  come  Into 
the  kingdom.  He  is  a  perverse  and  hardened 
character,  who  cannot  be  changed.  I  am  too 
happy  that  he  is  out  of  England."^ 

17 


258  M.IRTYRS    OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

Cromwell  retired  in  vexation.  He  wrote  to 
Vaughan,  but  the  king  found  the  letter  too 
w^eak,  and  Cromwell  had  to  correct  it  to  make 
it  harmonize  with  the  wrath  of  the  prince.  An 
ambitious  man,  he  bent  before  the  obstinate 
will  of  his  master,  but  the  loss  of  Tyndale  seem- 
ed irreparable.  Accordingly,  while  informing 
Vaughan  of  the  king's  anger,  he  added  that 
If  wholesome  reflection  should  bring  Tyndale 
to  reason,  the  king  was  ''so  tJiclined  to  inei^y, 
pity  and  compassion''  that  he  would  doubtless 
see  him  with  pleasure.  Vaughan,  whose  heart 
Tyndale  had  gained,  began  to  hunt  after  him 
again,  and  had  a  second  Interview  with  him. 
He  gave  him  Cromwell's  letter  to  read,  and 
when  the  Reformer  came  to  the  words  we 
have  just  quoted  about  Henry's  compassion, 
his  eyes  filled  with  tears.  "  What  gracious 
words  !"  he  exclaimed. — ''  Yes,"  said  Vaughan  ; 
*'  they  have  such  sweetness  that  they  would 
break  the  hardest  heart  in  the  world."  Tyn- 
dale, deeply  moved,  tried  to  find  some  mode 
of  fulfilling  his  duty  toward  God  and  toward 
the  king.  "  If  His  Majesty,"  he  said,  "  would 
condescend  to  permit  the  Holy  Scriptures  to 
circulate  among  the  people  in  all  their  purity, 
as  they  do  in  the  states  of  the  emperor  and 
in  other  Christian  countries,  I  would  bind  my- 
self never  to  write  again.  I  would  throw  my- 
self at  his  feet,  offering  my  body  as  a  sacrifice, 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE  259 

ready  to  submit,  If  necessary,  to  torture  and 
death." 

But  a  gulf  lay  between  the  monarch  and  the 
Reformer.  Henry  VIII.  saw  the  seeds  of  her- 
esy in  the  Scriptures,  and  Tyndale  rejected 
every  reformation  which  they  wished  to  carry 
out  by  proscribing  the  Bible.  "  Heresy  spring- 
eth  not  from  the  Scriptures,"  he  said,  "  no  more 
than  darkness  from  the  sun."  Tyndale  disap- 
peared again,  and  the  name  of  his  hiding-place 
is  unknown. 

The  king  of  England  was  not  discouraged 
by  the  check  he  had  received.  He  wanted 
men  possessed  of  talent  and  zeal — men  re- 
solved to  attack  the  pope.  Cambridge  had 
given  England  a  teacher  who  might  be  placed 
beside,  and  perhaps  even  above,  Latimer  and 
Tyndale.  This  was  John  Fryth.  He  thirsted 
for  the  truth ;  he  sought  God,  and  was  deter- 
mined to  give  himself  wholly  to  Jesus  Christ. 
One  day  Cromwell  said  to  the  king,  "What  a 
pity  it  is.  Your  Highness,  that  a  man  so  distin- 
guished as  Fryth  in  letters  and  sciences  should 
be  among  the  sectarians  !"  Like  Tyndale,  he 
had  quitted  England.  Cromwell,  with  Henry's 
consent,  wrote  to  Vaughan :  "  His  Majesty 
strongly  desires  the  reconciliation  of  Fryth, 
who  (he  firmly  believes)  is  not  so  far  advanced 
as  Tyndale  in  the  evil  way.  Always  full  of 
mercy,    the    king    is    ready  to    receive   him    to 


26o  MARTYRS    OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

favor.  Try  to  attract  him  charitably,  politi- 
cally." Vaughan  immediately  began  his  inqui- 
ries— it  was  May,  1531 — but  the  first  news  he 
received  was  that  Fryth,  a  minister  of  the  gospel, 
was  just  married  in  Holland.  "  This  marriage," 
he  wrote  to  the  king,  *'  may  by  chance  hinder 
my  persuasion."  This  was  not  all :  Fryth  was 
boldly  printing,  at  Amsterdam,  Tyndale's  an- 
swer to  Sir  Thomas  More.  Henry  was  forced 
to  give  him  up,  as  he  had  given  up  his  friend. 
He  succeeded  with  none  but  Latimer,  and  even 
the  chaplain  told  him  many  harsh  truths.  There 
was  a  decided  incompatibility  between  the  spir- 
itual reform  and  the  political  reform.  The  work 
of  God  refused  to  ally  itself  with  the  work  of 
the  throne.  The  Christian  faith  and  the  visible 
Church  are  two  distinct  things.  Some  (and 
among  them  the  Reformejs)  require  Christian- 
ity, a  hving  Christianity ;  others  (and  it  was  the 
case  of  Henry  and  his  prelates)  look  for  the 
Church  and  its  hierarchy,  and  care  little  wheth- 
er a  living  faith  be  found  there  or  not.  This 
is  a  capital  error.  Real  religion  must  exist 
first,  and  then  this  religion  must  produce  a  true 
religious  society.  Tyndale,  Fryth  and  their 
friends  desired  to  begin  with  religion  ;  Henry 
and  his  followers,  with  an  ecclesiastical  society 
hostile  to  faith.  The  king  and  the  Reformers 
could  not,  therefore,  come  to  an  understand- 
ing.    Henry,  profoundly  hurt  by  the  boldness 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  26 1 

of  those  evangelical  men,  swore  that  as  they 
would  not  have  peace  they  should  have  war — 
war  to  the  knife. 

Tyndale  had  been  forced  to  leave  his  coun- 
try, but  he  had  left  it  only  to  prepare  a  seed 
which,  borne  on  the  wings  of  the  wind,  was  to 
change  the  wildernesses  of  Great  Britain  into 
a  fruitful  garden. 

The  retired  teacher  from  the  vale  of  the 
Severn  had  setded  in  1534  as  near  as  pos- 
sible to  England — at  Antwerp,  whence  ships 
departed  frequendy  for  British  harbors.  The 
English  merchants,  of  whom  there  were  many 
in  that  city,  welcomed  him  with  fraternal  cor- 
diality. Among  them  was  a  friend  of  the  gos- 
pel, Mr.  Thomas  Poyntz,  whose  brother  filled 
an  office  in  the  kino^'s  household.  This  warm- 
hearted  Christian  had  received  Tyndale  into 
his  house,  and  the  latter  was  unremittingly 
occupied  in  translating  the  Old  Testament, 
when  an  English  ship  brought  the  news  of 
the  martyrdom  of  Fryth,  his  faithful  colleague. 
Tyndale  shed  many  tears,  and  could  not  make 
up  his  mind  to  continue  his  work  alone.  But 
the  reflection  that  Fryth  had  glorified  Jesus 
Christ  in  his  prison  aroused  him  :  he  felt  it 
his  duty  to  glorify  God  in  his  exile.  The  loss 
of  his  friend  made  his  Saviour  still  more  pre- 
cious to  him,  and  in  Jesus  he  found  comfort 
for  his   mind.     "  I  have  lost   my  brother,"   he 


262  MARTYRS  OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

said,  "  but  In  Christ  all  Christians,  and  even 
all  the  angels,  are  father  and  mother,  sister 
and  brother,  and  God  himself  takes  care  of 
me.  O  Christ,  my  Redeemer  and  my  shield  ! 
thy  blood,  thy  death,  all  that  thou  art  and  all 
that  thou  hast  done — -thou  thyself — art  mine  !" 
Tyndale,  strengthened  by  faith,  redoubled 
his  zeal  In  his  Master's  service.  That  Inde- 
fatigable man  was  not  content  to  study  the 
Scriptures  with  eagerness :  he  desired  to  com- 
bine with  learning  the  charity  that  worketh. 
The  English  merchants  of  Antwerp  having 
given  him  a  considerable  sum  of  money,  he 
consecrated  It  to  the  poor,  but  he  was  not 
content  with  mere  giving.  Besides  Sunday  he 
reserved  two  days  In  the  week  which  he  called 
his  "  days  of  recreation."  On  Monday  he  visit- 
ed the  most  out-of-the-way  streets  of  Antwerp, 
hunting  in  garrets  for  the  poor  English  refugees 
who  had  been  driven  from  their  country  on  ac- 
count of  the  gospel  ;  he  taught  them  to  bear 
Christ's  burden  and  carefully  tended  their  sick. 
On  Saturday  he  went  out  of  the  city,  visiting 
the  villages  and  solitary  houses  and  "  seeking 
out  every  hole  and  corner."  Should  he  happen 
to  meet  some  hard-worklnof  father  burdened 
with  children,  or  some  aged  or  Infirm  man,  he 
hastened  to  share  his  substance  with  the  poor 
creature.  "We  ought  to  be  for  our  neighbor," 
he  said,  "  what  Christ  has  been  for  us."     This 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  263 

Is  what  Tyndale  called  his  "pastime."  On 
Sunday  morning  he  went  to  a  merchant's 
house  where  a  large  room  had  been  prepar- 
ed for  evangelical  worship,  and  read  and  ex- 
plained the  Scriptures  with  so  much  sweetness 
and  unction,  and  In  such  a  practical  spirit,  that 
the  congregation  (It  was  said)  fancied  they  were 
listening  to  John  the  Evangelist.  During  the 
remainder  of  the  week  the  laborious  doctor  gave 
himself  entirely  to  his  translation.  He  w^as  not 
one  of  those  who  remain  idle  In  the  hope  that 
grace  may  abound.  "  If  we  are  justified  by 
faith,"  he  said,  "  It  Is  In  order  that  we  may  do 
Christian  works." 

There  came  good  news  from  London  to  con- 
sole him  for  the  death  of  Fryth.  In  every  di- 
rection people  were  asking  for  the  New  Testa- 
ment ;  several  Flemish  printers  began  to  re- 
print It,  saying,  "  If  Tyndale  should  print  two 
thousand  copies,  and  we  as  many,  they  would 
be  few  enouorh  for  all  Eno^land."  Four  new 
editions  of  the  sacred  book  Issued  from  the 
Antwerp  presses  In   1534. 

There  was  at  that  time  living  in  the  city  a 
man  little  fitted  to  be  Tyndale's  associate. 
George  Joye,  a  fellow  of  Cambridge,  was  one 
of  those  active  but  superficial  persons,  with 
little  learning  and  less  judgment,  who  are 
never  afraid  to  launch  out  into  works  beyond 
their  powers.     Joye,  who  had  left  England  In 


264  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

1527,  noticing  the  consideration  which  Tyn- 
dale's  labors  brought  to  their  author,  and  be- 
ing also  desirous  of  acquiring  glory  for  him- 
self, began,  though  he  knew  neither  Hebrew 
nor  Greek,  to  correct  Tyndale's  New  Testa- 
ment accordinor  to  the  Vulofate  and  his  own 
imagination.  One  day,  when  Tyndale  had  re- 
fused to  adopt  one  of  his  extravagant  correc- 
tions, Joye  was  touched  to  the  quick.  "  I  am 
not  afraid  to  cope  with  him  in  this  matter,"  he 
said,  "  for  all  his  high  learning  in  Hebrew, 
Greek  and  Latin."  Tyndale  knew  more  than 
these.  "  He  is  master  of  seven  languages," 
said  Busche,  Reuchlin's  disciple — "  Hebrew, 
Greek,  Latin,  Italian,  Spanish,  English,  French — 
and  so  thoroughly  that  whichever  he  is  speak- 
ing one  might  believe  it  to  be  his  mother- 
tongue." 

In  the  month  of  August,  Joye's  translation 
appeared  at  Antwerp  :  he  had  advertised  it  as 
"  clearer  and  more  faithful."  Tyndale  glanced 
over  the  leaves  of  the  work  that  had  been  so 
praised  by  its  author,  and  was  vexed  to  find 
himself  so  unskillfully  "  corrected."  He  point- 
ed out  some  of  Joye's  errors,  and  made  this 
touching  and  solemn  declaration :  "  I  protest 
in  the  presence  of  God  and  Jesus  Christ,  and 
before  the  whole  assembly  of  believers,  that  I 
have  never  written  anything  through  envy,  to 
circulate   any   error  or   to  attract  followers   to 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  265 

me.  I  have  never  had  any  other  desire  than 
to  lead  my  brethren  to  the  knowledge  of 
Christ.  And  if  in  what  I  have  written  or 
translated  there  should  be  anything  opposed 
to  God's  word,  I  beg  all  men  to  reject  it,  as 
I  reject  it  myself  before  Christ  and  his  as- 
sembly." It  was  in  November,  1534,  that 
Tyndale  made  this  noble  protest. 

The  moment  seemed  favorable  now  for  get- 
ting rid  of  him :  he  was  actually  in  the  states 
of  Charles  V.,  that  great  enemy  of  the  Ref- 
ormation. 

It  was  about  the  end  of  the  year  1534,  while 
the  Reformer  was  still  living  at  Antwerp  in  the 
house  of  Thomas  Poyntz,  when  one  day,  dining 
with  another  merchant,  he  observed  among  the 
guests  a  tall  young  man  of  good  appearance 
whom  he  did  not  know.  "  He  is  a  fellow-coun- 
tryman," said  the  master  of  the  house — "  Mr. 
Harry  Philips,  a  person  of  very  agreeable  man- 
ners." Tyndale  drew  near  the  stranger,  and 
was  charmed  with  his  conversation.  After  din- 
ner, just  as  they  were  about  to  separate,  he  ob- 
served another  person  near  Philips,  whose  coun- 
tenance, from  being  less  open,  pleaded  little  in 
his  favor.  It  was  "  Gabriel,  his  servant,"  he 
was  told.  Tyndale  invited  Philips  to  come  and 
see  him ;  the  young  layman  accepted  the  invi- 
tation, and  the  candid  Reformer  was  so  taken 
with  him  that  he  could  not  pass  a  day  without 


266         MA/rrvRS  of  the  reformation. 

him,  inviting  him  at  one  time  to  dinner,  at  an- 
other to  supper.  At  length  PhiHps  became  so 
necessary  to  him  that  he  prevailed  upon  him, 
with  Poyntz's  consent,  to  come  and  live  in  the 
same  house  with  him.  For  some  time  they  had 
lost  sight  of  Gabriel,  and  on  Tyndale's  asking 
what  had  become  of  him  he  was  informed  that 
he  had  gone  to  Louvain,  the  centre  of  Roman 
clericalism  in  Belgium.  When  Tyndale  and 
Philips  were  once  lodged  beneath  the  same 
roof,  their  intimacy  increased:  Tyndale  had  no 
secrets  from  his  fellow-countryman.  The  lat- 
ter spent  hours  in  the  library  of  the  Hellenist, 
who  showed  him  his  books  and  manuscripts, 
and  conversed  with  him  about  his  past  and 
future  labors  and  the  means  that  he  possessed 
for  circulating  the  New  Testament  throughout 
England.  The  translator  of  the  Bible,  all  can- 
dor and  simplicity,  supposing  no  evil,  thinking 
nothing  but  g-ood  of  his  neio-hbor,  unbosomed 
himself  to  him  like  a  child. 

Philips,  less  of  a  gentleman  than  he  appear- 
ed, was  the  son  of  a  tax-gatherer  in  Devon- 
shire, and  the  pretended  domestic,  a  disguised 
monk,  was  that  crafty  and  vicious  churchman 
who  had  been  brought  from  Stratford  and  given 
to  the  so-called  gentleman — apparently  as  a 
servant,  but  really  as  his  counselor  and  master. 
Neither  Wolsey,  More  nor  Hacket  had  succeed- 
ed in  getting  hold  of  Tyndale ;  but  Gardiner,  a 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  26/ 

man  of  innate  malice  and  indirect  measures, 
familiar  with  all  holes  and  corners,  all  circum- 
stances and  persons,  knew  how  to  go  to  work 
without  noise,  to  watch  his  prey  in  silence,  and 
fall  upon  it  at  the  very  moment  when  he  was 
least  expected.  Two  things  were  required  in 
order  to  catch  Tyndale :  a  bait  to  attract  him, 
and  a  bird  of  prey  to  seize  him.  Philips  was 
the  bait,  and  the  monk  Gabriel  Dunne  the  bird 
of  prey.  The  noble-hearted  Poyntz,  a  man  of 
greater  experience  than  the  Reformer,  had  been 
for  some  time  watching  with  inquisitive  eye  the 
new  guest  introduced  into  his  house.  It  was 
of  no  use  for  Philips  to  try  to  be  agreeable ; 
there  was  something  in  him  which  displeased 
the  worthy  merchant.  "  Master  Tyndale,"  he 
said  one  day  to  the  Reformer,  "when  did  you 
make  that  person's  acquaintance  ?" — "  Oh,  he's 
a  very  worthy  fellow,"  replied  the  doctor,  "  well 
educated  and  a  thorough  gentleman."  Poyntz 
said  no  more. 

Meanwhile,  the  monk  had  returned  from  Lou- 
vain,  where  he  had  gone  to  consult  with  some 
leaders  of  the  Ultramontane  party.  If  he  and 
his  companion  could  gain  Mr.  Poyntz,  it  would 
be  easy  tojay  hold  of  Tyndale.  They  thought 
it  would  be  sufficient  to  show  the  merchant  that 
they  had  money,  imagining  that  every  man  was 
to  be  bought.  One  day  Philips  said  to  Poyntz, 
'T  am  a  stranger  here,  and   should   feel  much 


268  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

obliged  if  you  would  show  me  Antwerp." 
They  went  out  together.  Philips  thought  the 
moment  had  come  to  let  Poyntz  know  that  he 
was  well  supplied  with  gold,  and  even  had  some 
to  give  to  others.  "  I  want  to  make  several 
purchases,"  he  said,  "and  you  would  greatly 
oblige  me  by  directing  me.  I  want  the  best 
goods.  I  have  plenty  of  money,"  he  added. 
He  then  took  a  step  further  and  sounded  his 
man  to  try  whether  he  would  aid  him  in  his  de- 
signs. As  Poyntz  did  not  seem  to  understand 
him,  Philips  went  no  further. 

As  stratagem  did  not  succeed,  it  was  neces- 
sary to  resort  to  force.  Philips,  by  Gabriel's 
advice,  set  out  for  Brussels  in  order  to  prepare 
the  blow  that  was  to  strike  Tyndale.  The  em- 
peror and  his  ministers  had  never  been  so  irri- 
tated against  England  and  the  Reformation. 
The  troops  of  Charles  V.  were  in  motion,  and 
people  expected  to  hear  every  moment  that  war 
had  broken  out  between  the  emperor  and  the 
king.  On  arriving  at  Brussels  the  young  Eng- 
lishman appeared  at  court  and  waited  on  the 
government:  he  declared  that  he  was  a  Roman 
Catholic  disgusted  with  the  relioious  reforms  in 
England  and  devoted  to  the  cause  of  Catherine. 
He  explained  to  the  ministers  of  Charles  V. 
that  they  had  in  the  Low  Countries  the  man 
who  was  poisoning  the  kingdom,  and  that  if 
they  put  Tyndale  to  death,  they  would  save  the 


WILLIAM    TYNDALE.  269 

papacy  in  England.  The  emperor's  ministers, 
delighted  to  see  Englishmen  making  common 
cause  with  them  against  Henry  VIIL,  conceded 
to  Gardiner's  delegate  all  that  he  asked.  Phil- 
ips, sparing  no  expense  to  attain  his  end,  re- 
turned to  Antwerp,  accompanied  by  the  impe- 
rial prosecutor  and  other  officers  of  the  em- 
peror. 

It  was  important  to  arrest  Tyndale  without 
having  recourse  to  the  city  authorities,  and  even 
without  their  knowledge.  Had  not  the  Hanse- 
atic  judges  had  the  strange  audacity  to  declare 
in  Harman's  case  that  they  could  not  condemn 
a  man  without  positive  proof?  The  monk,  who 
probably  had  not  gone  to  Brussels,  undertook 
to  reconnoitre  the  ground.  One  day,  when 
Poyntz  was  sitting  at  his  door,  Gabriel  went  up 
to  him  and  said,  "  Is  Master  Tyndale  at  home  ? 
My  master  desires  to  call  upon  him."  They 
entered  into  conversation.  Everything  seemed 
to  favor  the  monk's  designs:  he  learnt  that  in 

o 

three  or  four  days  Poyntz  would  be  going  to 
Bar-le-Duc,  where  he  would  remain  about  six 
weeks.  It  was  just  what  Gabriel  wanted,  for 
he  dreaded  the  piercing  eye  of  the  English 
merchant. 

Shordy  after  this  Philips  arrived  In  Antwerp 
with  the  prosecutor  and  his  officers.  The  for- 
mer went  Immediately  to  Poyntz's  house,  where 
he  found  only  the  wife  at  home.     "  Does  Mas- 


270  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

ter  Tyndale  dine  at  home  to-day  ?"  he  said  ;  "  I 
have  a  great  desire  to  dine  with  him.  Have 
you  anything  good  to  give  us?" — "What  we 
can  get  in  the  market,"  she  repHed  laconically. 
— '*  Good  !  good  !"  said  the  perfidious  papist  as 
he  turned  away. 

Tlie  new  Judas  hurried  to  meet  the  officers, 
and  agreed  wnth  them  upon  the  course  to  be 
adopted.  When  the  dinner-hour  drew  near  he 
said,  "  Come  along ;  I  will  deliver  him  to  you." 
The  imperial  prosecutor  and  his  followers,  with 
Philips  and  the  monk,  proceeded  toward  Poyntz's 
house,  carefully  noting  everything  and  taking 
the  necessary  measures  not  to  attract  observa- 
tion. The  entrance  to  the  house  was  by  a  long, 
narrow  passage.  Philips  placed  some  of  the 
agents  a  little  way  down  the  street,  others  near 
the  entrance  of  the  alley.  "  I  shall  come  out 
with  Tyndale,"  he  told  the  agents,  "and  the 
man  I  point  out  with  my  finger  is  the  one  you 
will  seize."  With  these  words  Philips  entered 
the  house  ;  it  was  about  noon. 

The  creature  was  exceedingly  fond  of  money; 
he  had  received  a  great  deal  from  the  priests  in 
England  for  the  payment  of  his  mission,  but  he 
thought  it  would  be  only  right  to  plunder  his 
victim  before  giving  him  up  to  death.  Finding 
Tyndale  at  home,  he  said  to  him,  after  a  few 
compliments,  "  I  must  tell  you  my  misfortune. 
This  morning  I  lost  my  purse  between  here  and 


WILLIAM    TVNDALR.  2/1 

Mechlin,  and  I  am  penniless.     Could  you  lend 
me  some  money?" 

Tyndale,  simple  and  inexperienced  In  the 
tricks  of  the  world,  went  to  fetch  the  required 
sum,  which  was  equal  to  thirty  pounds  sterling-. 
The  delighted  Philips  put  the  gold  carefully  in 
his  pocket,  and  then  thought  only  of  betraying 
his  kind-hearted  friend.  "  Well,  Master  Tyn- 
dale," he  said,  *'  we  are  going  to  dine  together." 
— "  No,"  replied  the  doctor,  "  I  am  going  to 
dine  out  to-day ;  come  along  with  me  ;  1  will 
answer  for  it  that  you  will  be  welcome."  Phil- 
ips joyfully  consented  ;  promptitude  of  execu- 
tion was  one  element  of  success  in  his  business. 
The  two  friends  prepared  to  start.  The  alley 
by  which  they  had  to  go  out  was  (as  we  have 
said)  so  narrow  that  two  persons  could  not 
walk  abreast.  Tyndale,  wishing  to  do  the  hon- 
ors to  Philips,  desired  him  to  go  first.  "  I  will 
never  consent,"  replied  the  latter,  pretending 
to  be  very  polite.  "  I  know  the  respect  due  to 
you ;  it  is  for  you  to  lead  the  way."  Then, 
taking  the  doctor  respectfully  by  the  hand,  he 
led  him  into  the  passage.  Tyndale,  who  was 
of  middle  height,  went  first,  while  Philips,  who 
was  very  tall,  came  behind  him.  He  had  placed 
two  agents  at  the  entrance,  who  were  sitting  at 
each  side  of  the  alley.  Hearing  footsteps,  they 
looked  up  and  saw  the  Innocent  Tyndale  ap- 
proaching them  without  suspicion,  and  over  his 


272  MAJ^TYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

shoulders  the  head  of  PhiHps.  He  was  a  lamb 
led  to  slaughter  by  the  man  who  was  about  to 
sell  him.  The  officers  of  justice,  frequently  so 
hardhearted,  experienced  a  feeling  of  compas- 
sion at  the  sight.  But  the  traitor,  raising  him- 
self behind  the  Reformer,  who  was  about  to 
enter  the  street,  placed  his  forefinger  over  Tyn- 
dale's  head,  according  to  the  signal  which  had 
been  agreed  upon,  and  gave  the  men  a  signif- 
icant look,  as  if  to  say  to  them,  "This  is  he." 
The  men  at  once  laid  hands  upon  Tyndale,.who 
in  his  holy  simplicity  did  not  at  first  understand 
what  they  intended  doing.  He  soon  found  it 
out,  for  they  ordered  him  to  move  on,  the  of- 
ficers following  him,  and  he  was  thus  taken  be- 
fore the  imperial  prosecutor.  The  latter,  who 
was  at  dinner,  invited  Tyndale  to  sit  down  with 
him.  Then,  ordering  his  servants  to  watch  him 
carefully,  the  magistrate  set  off  for  Poyntz's 
house.  He  seized  the  papers,  books  and  all 
that  had  belonged  to  the  Reformer,  and  return- 
ing home  placed  him  with  the  booty  in  a  car- 
riage and  departed.  The  night  came  on,  and 
after  a  drive  of  about  three  hours  they  arrived 
in  front  of  the  strong  castle  of  Vilvorde,  built 
in  1375  by  Duke  Wenceslaus,  situated  two  or 
three  leagues  from  Brussels  on  the  banks  of 
the  Senne,  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  water  and 
flanked  by  seven  towers.  The  drawbridge  was 
lowered,  and  Tyndale  was  delivered   into  the 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  273 

hands  of  the  governor,  who  put  him  Into  a  safe 
place.  The  Reformer  of  England  was  not  to 
leave  Vilvorde  as  Luther  left  the  Wartburg. 
This  occurred,  as  it  would  appear,  in  August, 

1535. 

The  object  of  his  mission  once  attained,  Phil- 
ips, fearing  the  indignation  of  the  English  mer- 
chants, escaped  to  Louvain.  Sitting  in  taverns  or 
at  the  tables  of  monks,  professors  and  prelates, 
sometimes  even  at  the  court  of  Brussels,  he 
would  boast  of  his  exploit,  and,  desiring  to  win 
the  favor  of  the  Imperialists,  would  call  Henry 
VIII.  a  tyrant  and  a  robber  of  the  state. 

The  English  merchants  of  Antwerp,  being 
reasonably  offended,  immediately  called  upon 
the  governor  of  the  English  factory  to  take 
measures  in  favor  of  their  countryman,  but 
the  governor  refused.  Tyndale,  deprived  of 
all  hope,  sought  consolation  in  God.  "  Oh, 
what  a  happy  thing  it  is  to  suffer  for  right- 
eousness' sake !"  he  said.  "  If  I  am  afflicted 
on  earth  with  Christ,  I  have  joy  in  the  hope 
that  I  shall  be  glorified  with  him  in  heaven. 
Trials  are  a  most  wholesome  medicine,  and  I 
will  endure  them  with  patience.  My  enemies 
destine  me  for  the  stake,  but  I  am  as  innocent 
as  a  new-born  child  of  the  crimes  of  which  they 
accuse  me.  My  God  will  not  forsake  me.  O 
Christ,  thy  blood  saves  me,  as  if  it  had  been 
mine  own  that  was  shed  upon  the  cross.     God, 

18 


274  MAKTYKS   OF    THE   REFORMATION. 

as   great  as   he    is,   is   mine,   with  all    that   he 
hath." 

Tyndale  in  his  prison  at  Vilvorde  was  hap- 
pier than  Philips  at  court.  In  vain  was  he  girt 
around  with  the  thick  walls  of  that  huge  fort- 
ress. Tyndale  was  free.  "There  is  the  cap- 
tivity and  bondage,"  he  could  say,  "  whence 
Christ  delivered  us,  redeemed  and  loosed  us. 
His  blood,  his  death,  his  patience  in  suffering 
rebukes  and  wrongs,  his  prayers  and  fastings, 
his  meekness  and  fulfilling  of  the  uttermost  point 
of  the  law,  broke  the  bonds  of  Satan  where- 
in we  were  so  strait  bound."  Thus  Tyndale 
was  as  truly  free  at  Vilvorde  as  Paul  had  been 
at  Rome.  He  felt  pressed  to  accomplish  a  vow 
made  many  years  before.  "  If  God  preserves 
my  life,"  he  had  said,  "  I  will  cause  a  boy  that 
driveth  a  plough  to  know  more  of  the  Script- 
ures than  the  pope."  True  Christianity  shows 
itself  by  the  attention  it  gives  to  Christ's  little 
ones.  It  was  time  for  Tyndale  to  keep  his 
promise.  He  occupied  his  prison-hours  in 
preparing  for  the  humble  dwellers  in  the  Glou- 
cestershire villages  and  the  surroundinof  coun- 
ties  an  edition  of  the  Bible  in  which  he  employ- 
ed the  language  and  orthography  used  in  that 
part  of  England.  When  near  his  end  he  re- 
turned lovingly  to  the  familiar  speech  of  his 
childhood ;  he  wrote  in  the  dialect  of  the  peas- 
antry to  save  the  souls  of  the  peasants,  and  for 


WILLIAM    TYNDALE.  2^^ 

the  first  time  put  titles  to  the  chapters  of  the 
Scripture,  in  order  to  make  the  understanding 
of  it  easier  to  his  humbler  fellow-countrymen. 
Two  other  editions  of  the  New  Testament  ap- 
peared during  the  first  year  of  his  captivity. 
He  did  more :  he  had  translated  the  Old  Tes- 
tament according  to  the  Hebrew  text,  and  was 
going  to  see  to  the  printing  of  it  just  when  Phil- 
ips betrayed  him.  The  fear  that  this  labor 
would  be  lost  grieved  him  even  more  than  his 
imprisonment :  a  friend  undertook  the  work 
he  could  no  longer  do  himself. 

At  that  time  there  lived  at  Antwerp,  as  chaplain 
to  the  English  merchants  in  that  city,  a  young 
man  from  the  county  of  Warwick  named  Rogers, 
who  had  been  educated  at  Cambridge,  and  was 
a  little  more  than  thirty  years  old.  Rogers  was 
learned,  but  submissive  to  the  Romish  tradi- 
tions. Tyndale,  having  made  his  acquaintance, 
asked  him  to  help  in  translating  the  Holy  Script- 
ures, and  Rogers  caught  joyfully  at  the  oppor- 
tunity of  employing  his  Greek  and  Hebrew. 
Close  and  constant  contact  with  the  word  of 
God  gradually  effected  in  him  that  great  trans- 
formation, that  total  renewal  of  the  man,  which 
is  the  object  of  redemption.  "I  have  found 
the  true  light  in  the  gospel,"  he  said  one  day  to 
Tyndale ;  ''  I  now  see  the  filthiness  of  Rome, 
and  I  cast  from  my  shoulders  the  heavy  yoke 
it  had  imposed  upon  me."  From  that  hour  Tyn- 


276  MARTY'RS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

dale  received  from  Rogers  the  help  which  he 
had  formerly  received  from  John  Fryth,  that 
pious  martyr  whose  example  Rogers  was  to 
follow  by  enduring,  the  first  under  Mary,  the 
punishment  of  fire.  The  Holy  Scriptures  have 
been  written  in  English  with  the  blood  of  mar- 
tyrs, if  we  may  so  speak — the  blood  of  Fryth, 
Tyndale  and  Rogers ;  it  is  a  crown  of  glory  for 
that  translation. 

At  the  moment  of  Tyndale's  perfidious  ar- 
rest Rogers  had  fortunately  saved  the  manu- 
script of  the  Old  Testament,  and  now  resolved 
to  delay  the  printing  no  longer.  When  the 
news  of  this  reached  the  Reformer  in  his  cell 
at  Vilvorde,  it  cast  a  gleam  of  light  upon  his 
latter  days  and  filled  his  heart  with  joy.  The 
zvhole  Bible! — that  was  the  legacy  which  the 
dying  Tyndale  desired  to  leave  to  his  fellow- 
countrymen.  He  took  pleasure  in  his  gloomy 
dungeon  in  following  with  his  mind's  eye  that 
divine  Scripture  from  city  to  city  and  from  cot- 
tage to  cottage ;  his  imagination  pictured  to 
him  the  struggles  it  would  have  to  go  through, 
and  also  its  victories.  "  The  word  of  God,"  he 
said,  "  never  was  without  persecution,  no  more 
than  the  sun  can  be  without  his  light.  By  what 
right  doth  the  pope  forbid  God  to  speak  in  the 
English  tongue  ?  Why  should  not  the  sermons 
of  the  apostles,  preached  no  doubt  in  the  moth- 
er-tongue of  those  who  heard   them,  be  now 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  2// 

written  in  the  mother-tongue  of  those  who 
read  them  ?"  Tyndale  did  not  think  of  prov- 
ing the  divinity  of  the  Bible  by  learned  disser- 
tations. ''  Scripture  derives  its  authority  from 
Him  who  sent  it,"  he  said.  "  Would  you  know 
the  reason  why  men  believe  in  Scripture  ?  It 
is  Scripttcre.  It  is  itself  the  instrument  which 
outwardly  leads  men  to  believe,  whilst  inward- 
ly the  spirit  of  God  himself,  speaking  through 
Scripture,  gives  faith  to  his  children." 

We  do  not  know  for  certain  in  what  city 
Rogers  printed  the  great  English  folio  Bible. 
Hamburg,  Antwerp,  Marburg,  Lubeck,  and 
even  Paris,  have  been  named.  Extraordinary 
precautions  were  required  to  prevent  the  per- 
secutors from  entering  the  house  where  men 
had  the  boldness  to  print  the  word  of  God,  and 
from  breaking  the  printing-presses.  Tyndale 
had  the  great  comfort  of  knowing  that  the  whole 
Bible  was  going  to  be  published,  and  that  proph- 
ets, apostles,  and  Christ  himself,  would  speak 
by  it  after  his  death. 

This  man,  so  active,  so  learned  and  so  truly 
great,  whose  works  circulated  far  and  wide  with 
so  much  power,  had  at  the  same  time  within 
him  a  pure  and  beneficent  light,  the  love  of  God 
and  of  man,  which  shed  its  mild  rays  on  all 
around  him.  The  depth  of  his  faith,  the  charm 
of  his  conversation,  the  uprightness  of  his  con- 
duct, touched  those  who  came  near  him.     The 


2/8  MARTYRS   OF   THE    REFORMATION. 

jailer  liked  to  bring  him  his  food  in  order  to 
talk  with  him,  and  his  young  daughter  often  ac- 
companied him  and  listened  eagerly  to  the  words 
of  the  pious  Englishman.  Tyndale  spoke  of 
Jesus  Christ ;  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  riches 
of  the  divine  Spirit  were  about  to  transform 
Christendom,  that  the  children  of  God  were 
about  to  be  manifested,  and  that  the  Lord 
was  about  "  to  either  tog^ether  his  elect." 
*'  Grace  is  there,  summer  is  nigh,"  he  was  wont 
to  say,  "  for  the  trees  blossom."  In  truth,  young 
shoots,  and  even  old  trees  long  barren,  flour- 
ished within  the  very  walls  of  the  castle.  The 
jailer,  his  daughter  and  other  members  of  their 
house  were  converted  to  the  gospel  by  Tyn- 
dale's  life  and  doctrine.  However  dark  the 
machinations  of  his  enemies,  they  could  not  ob- 
scure the  divine  light  kindled  in  his  heart,  and 
which  "  shone  before  men."  There  was  an  in- 
vincible power  in  this  Christian  man.  Full  of 
hope  in  the  final  victory  of  Jesus  Christ,  he 
courageously  trampled  under  foot  tribulations, 
trials,  and  death  itself.  He  believed  in  the  vic- 
tory of  the  word.  *'  I  am  bound  like  a  male- 
factor," he  said,  "but  the  word  of  God  is  not 
bound."  The  bitterness  of  his  last  days  was 
changed  into  great  peace  and  divine  sweetness. 
His  friends  did  not  forget  him.  Among  the 
English  merchants  at  Antwerp  was  one  whose 
affection  had  often  reminded  him  that  "  friend- 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  2^^ 

ship  is  the  assemblage  of  every  virtue,"  as  a 
wise  man  of  antiquity  styles  it.  Thomas  Poyntz, 
one  of  whose  ancestors  had  come  over  from 
Normandy  with  William  the  Conqueror,  had 
perhaps  known  the  Reformer  in  the  house  of 
Lady  Walsh,  who  also  belonged  to  this  ancient 
family.  For  nearly  a  year  the  merchant  had 
entertained  the  translator  of  the  Scriptures  be- 
neath his  roof,  and  a  mutual  and  unlimited  con- 
fidence was  established  between  them.  When 
Poyntz  saw  his  friend  in  prison  he  resolved  to 
do  everything  to  save  him.  Foyntz's  elder 
brother,  John,  who  had  retired  to  his  estate  at 
North  Okendon  in  Essex,  had  accompanied  the 
king  in  1520  to  the  Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold, 
and  although  no  longer  at  court  he  still  enjoy- 
ed the  favor  of  Henry  VIII.  Thomas  deter- 
mined to  write  to  John.  "  Right  well-beloved 
brother,"  he  said,  "  William  Tyndale  is  in  pris- 
on, and  like  to  suffer  death  unless  the  king 
should  extend  his  gracious  help  to  him.  He 
has  lain  in  my  house  three  quarters  of  a  year, 
and  I  know  that  the  king  has  never  a  truer- 
hearted  subject.  When  the  pope  gave  His 
Majesty  the  tide  of  Defender  of  the  Faith,  he 
prophesied  like  Caiaphas.  The  papists  thought 
our  prince  should  be  a  great  maintainer  of  their 
abominations,  but  God  has  entered  His  Grace 
into  the  right  batde.  The  king  should  know 
that  the  death  of  this  man  will  be  one  of  the 


28o  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

highest  pleasures  to  the  enemies  of  the  gospel. 
If  it  might  please  His  Majesty  to  send  for  this 
man,  it  might,  by  the  means  thereof,  be  opened 
to  the  court  and  council  of  this  country  (Bra- 
bant) that  they  would  be  at  another  point  with 
the  bishop  of  Rome  within  a  short  space." 

John  lost  no  time  ;  he  succeeded  in  interest- 
ing Cromwell  in  the  Reformer's  cause,  and  on 
the  loth  of  September,  1535,  a  messenger  ar- 
rived in  Antwerp  with  two  letters  from  the 
vicar-general — one  for  the  marquis  of  Bergen- 
op-Zoom,  and  the  other  for  Carondelet,  arch- 
bishop of  Palermo  and  president  of  the  coun- 
cil of  Brabant.  Alas  !  the  marquis  had  started 
two  days  before  for  Germany,  whither  he  was 
conducting  the  princess  of  Denmark.  Thomas 
Poyntz  mounted  his  horse  and  caught  up  to  the 
escort  about  fifteen  miles  from  Maestricht.  The 
marquis  hurriedly  glanced  over  Cromwell's  de- 
spatch. "  I  have  no  leisure  to  write,"  he  said ; 
"  the  princess  is  making  ready  to  depart." — "  I 
will  follow  you  to  the  next  baiting-place,"  an- 
swered Tyndale's  indefatigable  friend. — "  Be  it 
so,"  replied  Bergen-op-Zoom. 

On  arriving  at  Maestricht  the  marquis  wrote 
to  Flegge,  to  Cromwell  and  to  his  friend  the 
archbishop,  president  of  the  council  of  Brabant, 
and  gave  the  three  letters  to  Poyntz.  The  lat- 
ter presented  the  letters  of  Cromwell  and  of 
the    marquis    to    the    president,    but    the    arch- 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  2%\ 

bishop  and  the  council  of  Brabant  were  op- 
posed to  Tyndale.  Poyntz  immediately  started 
for  London,  and  laid  the  answer  of  the  council 
before  Cromwell,  entreating  him  to  insist  that 
Tyndale  should  be  immediately  set  at  liberty, 
for  the  danorer  was  ereat.  The  answer  was 
delayed  a  month.  Poyntz  handed  it  to  the 
chancery  of  Brabant,  and  every  day  this  true 
and  eenerous  friend  went  to  the  office  to  learn 
the  result.  "  Your  request  will  be  granted," 
said  one  of  the  clerks  on  the  fourth  day. 
Poyntz  was  transported  with  joy.  Tyndale 
was  saved. 

The  traitor  PhilFps,  however,  who  had  deliv- 
ered him  to  his  enemies,  was  then  at  Louvain. 
He  had  run  away  from  Antwerp,  knowing  that 
the  English  merchants  were  angry  with  him, 
and  had  sold  his  books  with  the  intent  of  es- 
caping to  Paris.  But  the  Louvain  priests,  who 
still  needed  him,  reassured  him,  and,  remaining 
in  that  stronghold  of  Romanism,  he  began  to 
translate  into  Latin  such  passages  in  Tyndale's 
writings  as  he  thought  best  calculated  to  offend 
the  Catholics.  He  was  thus  occupied  when  the 
news  of  Tyndale's  approaching  deliverance  fill- 
ed him  and  his  friends  with  alarm.  What  was 
to  be  done?  He  thought  the  only  means  of 
preventing  the  liberation  of  the  prisoner  was 
to  shut  up  the  liberator  himself.  Philips  went 
straight  to  the  procurator-general.     "That  man, 


282  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

Poyntz,"  he  said,  *'  Is  as  much  a  heretic  as  Tyn- 
dale."  Two  serjeants-at-arms  were  sent  to 
keep  watch  over  Poyntz  at  his  house,  and  for 
six  days  in  succession  he  was  examined  upon 
a  hundred  different  articles.  At  the  beginning 
of  February,  1536,  he  learnt  that  he  was  about 
to  be  sent  to  prison,  and,  knowing  what  would 
follow,  he  formed  a  prompt  resolution.  One 
night,  when  the  sergeants-at-arms  were  asleep, 
he  escaped  and  left  the  city  early,  just  as  the 
gates  were  opened.  Horsemen  were  sent  in 
search  of  him,  but  as  Poyntz  knew  the  country 
well  he  escaped  them,  got  on  board  a  ship,  and 
arrived  safe  and  sound  at  his  brother's  house 
at  North  Okendon. 

When  Tyndale  heard  of  this  escape  he  knew 
what  It  indicated ;  but  he  was  not  overwhelmed, 
and  almost  at  the  foot  of  the  scaffold  he  bravely 
fought  many  a  tough  battle.  The  Louvain  doc- 
tors undertook  to  make  him  abjure  his  faith,  and 
represented  to  him  that  he  was  condemned  by 
the  Church.  ''The  authority  of  Jesus  Christ," 
answered  Tyndale,  "  Is  Independent  of  the  au- 
thority of  the  Church."  They  called  upon  him 
to  make  submission  to  the  successor  of  the 
apostle  Peter.  "Holy  Scripture,"  he  said,  "  is 
the  first  of  the  apostles  and  the  ruler  In  the 
kingdom  of  Christ."  The  Romish  doctors  in- 
effectually attacked  him  In  his  prison :  he  show- 
ed them  that  they  were  entangled  in  vain  tra- 


WILLIAM    TYNDALE.  283 

ditions  and  miserable  superstitions,  and  over- 
threw all  their  pretences. 

During  this  time  Poyntz  was  working  with 
all  his  might  in  England  to  ward  off  the  blow 
by  which  his  friend  was  about  to  be  struck. 
John  assisted  Thomas,  but  all  was  useless. 
Henry  just  at  that  time  was  making  great 
efforts  to  arrest  some  of  his  subjects  whom 
their  devotion  to  the  pope  had  driven  out  of 
England.  "  Cover  all  the  roads  with  spies  in 
order  to  catch  them,"  he  wrote  to  the  German 
magistrates  ;  but  there  was  not  a  word  about 
Tyndale.  The  king  cared  very  little  for  these 
evangelicals.  His  religion  consisted  in  reject- 
ing the  Roman  pontiff  and  making  himself 
pope :  as  for  these  Reformers,  let  them  be 
burnt  in  Brabant;  it  will  save  him  the 
trouble. 

All  hope  was  not,  however,  lost.  They  had 
confidence  in  the  vicegerent,  the  hammer  of 
the  monks.  On  the  13th  of  April,  Vaughan 
wrote  to  Cromwell  from  Antwerp :  ''  If  you 
will  send  me  a  letter  for  the  privy  council,  I 
can  still  save  Tyndale  from  the  stake ;  only 
make  haste,  for  if  you  are  slack  about  it,  it 
will  be  too  late."  But  there  were  cases  in  which 
Cromwell  could  do  nothing  without  the  king, 
and  Henry  was  deaf.  He  had  special  motives 
at  that  time  for  sacrificing  Tyndale ;  the  discon- 
tent which  broke  out  in  the  north  of  England 


284  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

made  him  desirous  of  conciliatinor  the  Low 
Countries.  Charles  V.  also,  who  was  vioforous- 
ly  attacked  by  Francis  L,  prayed  his  very  good 
brother  (Henry  VIII.)  to  unite  with  him  for  the 
public  good  of  Christendom.  Queen  Mary,  re- 
gent of  the  Netherlands,  wrote  from  Brussels 
to  her  uncle,  entreating  him  to  yield  to  this 
prayer,  and  the  king  was  quite  ready  to  aban- 
don Tyndale  to  such  powerful  allies.  Mary,  a 
woman  of  upright  heart  but  feeble  character, 
easily  yielded  to  outward  impressions,  and  had 
at  that  time  bad  counselors  about  her.  *'  Those 
animals  [the  monks]  are  all  powerful  at  the 
court  of  Brussels,"  said  Erasmus.  "  Mary  is 
only  a  puppet  placed  there  by  our  nation  ;  Mon- 
tigny  is  the  plaything  of  the  Franciscans ;  the 
cardinal-archbishop  of  Liege  is  a  domineering 
person  and  full  of  violence ;  and  as  for  the 
archbishop  of  Palermo,  he  is  a  mere  giver  of 
words  and  nothing  else." 

Among  such  personages  and  under  their  in- 
fluence the  court  was  formed  and  the  trial  of  the 
Reformer  of  England  began.  Tyndale  refused 
to  be  represented  by  counsel.  *'  I  will  answer 
my  accusers  myself,"  he  said.  The  doctrine  for 
which  he  was  tried  was  this  :  "  The  man  who 
throws  off  the  worldly  existence  which  he  has 
lived  far  from  God,  and  receives  by  a  living 
faith  the  complete  remission  of  his  sins,  which 
the  death  of  Christ  has  purchased  for  him,  is 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  285 

introduced  by  a  glorious  adoption  into  the  very 
family  of  God."  This  was  certainly  a  crime  for 
which  a  Reformer  could  joyfully  suffer.  In 
August,  1536,  Tyndale  appeared  before  the 
ecclesiastical  court.  "  You  are  charged."  said 
his  judges,  "  with  having  infringed  the  imperial 
decree  which  forbids  any  one  to  teach  that  faith 
alone  justifies."  The  accusation  was  not  with- 
out truth.  Tyndale's  Unjust  Mammon  had  just 
appeared  in  London  under  the  title  Treatise  of 
Justification  by  Faith  only.  Every  man  could 
read  in  it  the  crime  with  which  he  was  charged. 
Tyndale  had  his  reasons  when  he  declared 
he  would  defend  himself.  It  was  not  his  own 
cause  that  he  undertook  to  defend,  but  the 
cause  of  the  Bible ;  a  Brabant  lawyer  would 
have  supported  it  very  poorly.  It  was  in  his 
heart  to  proclaim  solemnly,  before  he  died, 
that  while  all  human  religions  make  salvation 
proceed  from  the  works  of  man,  the  divine 
religion  makes  it  proceed  from  a  work  of  God. 
"  A  man  whom  the  sense  of  his  sins  has  con- 
founded," said  Tyndale,  "  loses  all  confidence 
and  joy.  The  first  thing  to  be  done  to  save 
him  is,  therefore,  to  lighten  him  of  the  heavy 
burden  under  which  his  conscience  is  bowed 
down.  He  must  believe  in  the  perfect  work 
of  Christ,  which  reconciles  him  completely  with 
God ;  then  he  has  peace,  and  Christ  imparts 
to    him,    by   his    Spirit,    a    holy    regeneration. 


286  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

Yes,"  he  exclaimed,  "we  believe  and  are  at 
peace  in  our  consciences,  because  that  God 
who  cannot  He,  hath  promised  to  forgive  us 
for  Christ's  sake.  As  a  child  when  his  father 
threateneth  him  for  his  fault  hath  never  rest 
till  he  hear  the  word  of  mercy  and  forgive- 
ness of  his  father's  mouth  again,  but  as  soon 
as  he  heareth  his  father  say,  '  Go  thy  way,  do 
me  no  more  so ;  I  forgive  thee  this  fault,' 
then  is  his  heart  at  rest ;  then  runneth  he  to 
no  man  to  make  Intercession  for  him ;  neither, 
though  there  come  any  false  merchant,  saying, 
'  What  wilt  thou  give  me  and  I  will  obtain  par- 
don of  thy  father  for  thee  ?'  will  he  suffer  him- 
self to  be  beguiled.  No,  he  will  not  buy  of 
a  wily  fox  what  his  father  hath  given  him 
freely." 

Tyndale  had  spoken  to  the  consciences  of 
his  hearers,  and  some  of  them  were  beginning 
to  believe  that  his  cause  was  the  cause  of  the 
gospel.  "Truly,"  exclaimed  the  procurator- 
general,  as  did  formerly  the  centurion  near 
the  cross — "  truly  this  was  a  good,  learned 
and  pious  man."  But  the  priests  would  not 
allow  so  costly  a  prey  to  be  snatched  from 
them.  Tyndale  was  declared  guilty  of  erro- 
neous, captious,  rash,  ill-sounding,  dangerous, 
scandalous  and  heretical  propositions,  and  was 
condemned  to  be  solemnly  degraded  and  then 
handed  over  to  the  secular  power.     They  were 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE.  28/ 

eager  to  make  him  go  through  the  ceremonial, 
even  all  the  mummeries,  used  on  such  occa- 
sions :  it  was  too  good  a  case  to  allow  of  any 
curtailment.  The  Reformer  was  dressed  in 
his  sacerdotal  robes,  the  sacred  vessels  and 
the  Bible  were  placed  in  his  hands,  and  he 
was  taken  before  the  bishop.  The  latter,  hav- 
ing been  informed  of  the  crime  of  the  accused 
man,  stripped  him  of  the  ornaments  of  his 
order,  took  away  the  Bible  from  the  trans- 
lator of  the  Bible,  and,  after  a  barber  had 
shaved  the  whole  of  his  head,  the  bishop  de- 
clared him  deprived  of  the  crown  of  the  priest- 
hood, and  expelled  like  an  undutiful  child  from 
the  inheritance  of  the  Lord. 

One  day  would  have  been  sufficient  to  cut 
off  from  this  world  the  man  who  was  its  or- 
nament, and  those  who  walked  in  the  dark- 
ness of  fanaticism  waited  impatiently  for  the 
fatal  hour ;  but  the  secular  power  hesitated 
for  a -while,  and  the  Reformer  stayed  nearly 
two  months  longer  in  prison,  always  full  of 
faith,  peace  and  joy.  "  Well,"  said  those  who 
came  near  him  in  the  castle  of  Vilvorde,  "  if 
that  man  is  not  a  good  Christian,  we  do  not 
know  of  one  upon  earth."  Religious  courage 
was  personified  in  Tyndale.  He  had  never 
suffered  himself  to  be  stopped  by  any  difficulty, 
privation  or  suffering;  he  had  resolutely  follow- 
ed the  call  he  had  received,  which  was  to  give 


288  MAKTVKS  OF   THE    REFORMATION. 

England  the  word  of  God.  Nodiing  had  ter- 
rified him,  nothing  had  dispirited  him  ;  with  ad- 
mirable perseverance  he  had  continued  his  work, 
and  now  he  was  going  to  give  his  life  for  it.  Firm 
in  his  convictions,  he  had  never  sacrificed  the 
least  truth  to  prudence  or  to  fear;  firm  in  his 
hope,  he  had  never  doubted  that  the  labor  of  his 
life  would  bear  fruit,  for  that  labor  had  the  prom- 
ises of  God.  That  pious  and  intrepid  man  is  one 
of  the  noblest  examples  of  Christian  heroism. 

The  faint  hope  which  some  of  Tyndale's 
friends  had  entertained  on  seeing  the  delay 
of  justice  was  soon  destroyed.  The  imperial 
government  prepared  at  last  to  complete  the 
wishes  of  the  priests.  Friday,  the  6th  of  Oc- 
tober, 1536,  was  the  day  that  terminated  the 
miserable  but  orlorious  life  of  the  Reformer. 
The  gates  of  the  prison  rolled  back,  a  proces- 
sion crossed  the  foss  and  the  bridge,  under 
which  slept  the  waters  of  the  Senne,  passed 
the  outward  walls  and  halted  without  the  for- 
tifications. Before  leaving  the  castle,  Tyndale, 
a  grateful  friend,  had  entrusted  the  jailer  with 
a  letter  intended  for  Poyntz ;  the  jailer  took  it 
himself  to  Antwerp  not  long  after,  but  it  has 
not  come  down  to  us.  On  arriving  at  the 
scene  of  punishment  the  Reformer  found  a 
numerous  crowd  assembled.  The  government 
had  wished  to  show  the  people  the  punishment 
of  a  heretic,  but  they  only  witnessed  the    tri- 


WILLIAM   TYNDALE  289 

umph  of  a  martyr.  Tyndale  was  calm.  "I 
call  God  to  record,"  he  could  say,  ''  that  I  have 
never  altered,  against  the  voice  of  my  conscience, 
one  syllable  of  his  word,  nor  would  do  this 
day  if  all  the  pleasures,  honors  and  riches  of 
the  earth  might  be  given  me."  The  joy  of 
hope  filled  his  heart,  yet  one  painful  idea  took 
possession  of  him.  Dying  far  from  his  coun- 
try, abandoned  by  his  king,  he  felt  saddened  at 
the  thought  of  that  prince,  who  had  already  per- 
secuted so  many  of  God's  servants,  and  who 
remained  obstinately  rebellious  against  that 
divine  light  which  everywhere  shone  around 
him.  Tyndale  would  not  have  that  soul  perish 
through  carelessness.  His  charity  buried  all 
the  faults  of  the  monarch ;  he  prayed  that  those 
sins  might  be  blotted  out  from  before  the  face 
of  God ;  he  would  have  saved  Henry  VIII.  at 
any  cost.  While  the  executioner  was  fasten- 
ing him  to  the  post  the  Reformer  exclaimed  in 
a  loud  and  suppliant  voice,  "  Lord,  open  the 
king  of  England's  eyes !"  They  were  his  last 
words.  Instantly  afterward  he  was  strangled, 
and  flames  consumed  the  martyr's  body.  His 
last  cry  was  wafted  to  the  British  isles  and 
repeated  in  every  assembly  of  Christians.  A 
great  death  had  crowned  a  great  life.  "  Such," 
says  the  old  chronicler,  John  Fox — "such  is  the 
story  of  that  true  servant  and  martyr  of  God, 
William    Tyndale,  who,   for  his   notable    pains 

19 


290  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

and  travail,  may  well  be  called  the  apostle  of 
England  in  this  our  later  age!' 

His  fellow-countrymen  profited  by  the  work 
of  his  life.  As  early  as  1526  more  than  twen- 
ty editions  of  Tyndale's  New  Testament  had 
been  circulated  over  the  kingdom,  and  others 
had  followed  them.  It  was  like  a  mighty  river 
continually  bearing  new  waters  to  the  sea. 


XXIII. 
LOUIS  BERQUIN, 

A,  D.  1523-29. 

Louis  Berquin,  a  friend  of  Erasmus,  of  let- 
ters, and  especially  of  Scripture,  who  had  free 
access  to  the  court  of  the  duchess  of  Alen- 
gon,*  and  with  whom  that  princess  loved  to 
converse  about  the  gospel  and  the  new  times, 
had  been  arrested  on  a  charge  of  heresy ; 
then  set  at  liberty  in  1523  by  her  intercession 
and  by  the  orders  of  the  king  of  France. 
Leaving  Paris,  he  had  gone  to  his  native  prov- 
ince of  Artois.  A  man  of  upright  heart,  gen- 
erous soul  and  intrepid  zeal,  "in  whom  you 
could  see  depicted  the  marks  of  a  great  mind," 
says  the  chronicler,  he  worthily  represented  by 
his  character  that  nobility  of  France,  and  espe- 
cially of  Artois,  so  distinguished  at  all  times  by 

^  Her  name  was  Margaret  of  Navarre. 


LOUIS  BERQUIN.  29 1 

its  devotedness  and  valor.  Happy  In  the  lib- 
erty which  God  had  given  him,  Berquin  had 
sworn  to  consecrate  it  to  him,  and  was  zealous- 
ly propagating  in  the  cottages  on  his  estate  the 
doctrine  of  salvation  by  Christ  alone.  The 
ancient  country  of  the  Atrebates,  wonderfully 
fertile  as  regards  the  fruits  of  the  earth,  was 
equally  fertile  as  regards  the  seed  from  heaven. 
Berquin  attacked  the  priesthood,  such  as 
Rome  had  made  it.  He  said,  "  You  will  often 
meet  with  these  words  in  Holy  Scripture,  '  hon- 
orable marriage,  iindefiled  bed,'  but  of  celibacy 
you  will  not  find  a  syllable."  Another  time  he 
said,  "  I  have  not  yet  known  a  monastery  which 
was  not  infected  with  hatred  and  dissension." 
Such  language,  repeated  in  the  refectories  and 
long  galleries  of  the  convents,  filled  the  monks 
with  anger  against  this  noble  friend  of  learning. 
But  he  did  not  stop  there.  "We  must  teach 
the  Lord's  flock,"  he  said,  "  to  pray  with  under- 
standing, that  they  may  no  longer  be  content 
to  gabble  with  their  lips,  like  ducks  with  their 
bills,  without  comprehending  what  they  say." — 
"  He  is  attacking  us,"  said  the  chaplains.  Ber- 
quin did  not,  however,  always  indulge  in  this 
caustic  humor;  he  was  a  pious  Christian,  and 
desired  to  see  a  holy  and  living  unity  succeed 
the  parties  that  divided  the  Roman  Church. 
He  said,  "We  ought  not  to  hear  these  words 
among   Christians,  '  I  am   of  the  Sorbonne,'  '  I 


292  MARTYRS  OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

am  of  Luther/  or  *  I  am  a  Grey  Friar,  or  Do- 
minican, or  Bernardite.'  Would  it  be  too  much, 
then,  to  say,  '  I  am  a  Christian'?  Jesus,  who 
came  for  us  all,  ought  not  to  be  divided  by  us." 

But  this  language  aroused  still  greater  hatred. 
The  priests  and  nobles,  who  were  firmly  attach- 
ed to  ancient  usages,  rose  up  against  him ;  they 
attacked  him  in  the  parishes  and  chateaux,  and 
even  went  to  him  and  strove  to  detach  him  from 
the  new  ideas  which  alarmed  them.  ''  Stop  !" 
they  said  with  a  sincerity  which  we  cannot  doubt 
— "  stop  !  or  it  is  all  over  with  the  Roman  hier- 
archy." 

Berquin  smiled,  but  moderated  his  language ; 
he  sought  to  make  men  understand  that  God 
loves  those  whom  he  calls  to  believe  in  Jesus 
Christ,  and  applied  himself  *'  to  scattering  the 
divine  seed  "  with  unwearied  courage.  With 
the  Testament  in  his  hand  he  perambulated  the 
neighborhood  of  Abbeville,  the  banks  of  the 
Somme,  the  towns,  manors  and  fields  of  Artois 
and  Picardy,  filling  them  with  the  word  of  God. 

These  districts  were  in  the  see  of  Amiens, 
and  every  day  some  noble,  priest  or  peasant 
went  to  the  palace  and  reported  some  evan- 
gelical speech  or  act  of  this  Christian  gentle- 
man. The  bishop,  his  vicars  and  canons  met 
and  consulted  toc^ether.  On  a  sudden  the  bish- 
op  started  for  Paris,  eager  to  get  rid  of  the  evan- 
gelist who  was  creating  a  disturbance  through- 


LOUIS  BERQUIN.  293 

out  the  north  of  France.  He  waited  upon  the 
archbishop  and  the  doctors  of  the  Sorbonne  ; 
he  described  to  them  the  heretical  exertions 
of  the  gentleman,  the  irritation  of  the  priests 
and  the  scandal  of  the  faithful.  The  Sorbonne 
assembled  and  went  to  work :  unable  to  seize 
Berquin,  they  seized  his  books,  examined  them, 
and  "  after  the  manner  of  spidei^s  sucked  from 
them  certain  articles,"  says  Crespin,  "  to  make 
poison  and  bring  about  the  death  of  a  person 
who  with  integrity  and  simplicity  of  mind  was 
endeavoring  to  advance  the  doctrine  of  God." 
Beda  especially  took  a  violent  part  against  the 
evangelist.  This  suspicious  and  arbitrary  doc- 
tor, a  thorough  inquisitor,  who  possessed  a  re- 
markable talent  for  discovering  in  a  book  every- 
thing that  could  ruin  a  man  by  the  help  of  forced 
interpretations,  was  seen  poring  night  and  day 
over  Berquin's  volumes.  He  read  In  them, 
"The  Virgin  Mary  is  improperly  invoked  in- 
stead of  the  Holy  Ghost." — "  Point  against  the 
accused,"  said  Beda. — He  continued:  "There 
are  no  grounds  for  calling  her  a  treasury  of 
grace,  our  hope,  our  life — qualities  which  be- 
long essentially  to  our  Saviour  alone." — "  Con- 
firmation !" — "  Faith  alone  justifies." — "  Deadly 
heresy  !" — "  Neither  the  gates  of  hell,  nor  Sa- 
tan, nor  sin  can  do  anything  against  him  who 
has  faith  in  God." — "What  insolence!"  Beda 
made  his  report.      "  Of  a  truth,"  said  his  col- 


294  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

leagues,  "  that  is  enough  to  bnng  any  man  to 
the  stake." 

Berquin's  death  being  decided  upon,  the  Sor- 
bonne  appHed  to  the  ParHament,  which  raised 
no  objections  in  the  matter.  A  man  was  put 
to  death  in  those  times  for  an  offensive  pas- 
sage in  his  writings  ;  it  was  the  censorship  of 
a  period  just  emerging  from  the  barbarism 
of  the  Middle  Ages.  Demailly,  an  officer  of 
the  court,  started  for  Abbeville,  proceeded  to 
the  gentleman's  estate  and  arrested  him  in  the 
name  of  the  law.  His  vassals,  who  were  devo- 
ted to  him,  murmured  and  would  have  risen  to 
defend  him,  but  Berquin  thought  himself  strong 
in  his  rieht;  he  remembered  besides  these  words 
of  the  Son  of  God :  ''  Whosoever  shall  compel 
thee  to  go  a  mile,  go  with  him  twain ;"  he  en- 
treated his  friends  to  let  him  depart,  and  was 
taken  to  the  prison  of  the  Conciergerie,  which 
he  entered  with  a  firm  countenance  and  un- 
bending head. 

This  sad  news,  which  reached  the  duchess 
of  Alengon  in  Spain,  moved  her  deeply,  and 
while  she  was  hurrying  from  Madrid  to  Toledo, 
Alcala  and  Guadalaxara,  soliciting  everybody, 
"plotting"  her  brother's  marriage  with  the  sis- 
ter of  Charles  V.,  and  thus  paving  the  way  to 
the  reconciliation  of  the  two  potentates,  she  re- 
solved to  save  her  brethren  exiled  or  imprison- 
ed for  the  gospel.      She  applied  to  the  king, 


LOUIS  BERQUIN.  295 

attacking  him  on  his  better  side.  Francis  I., 
Brantome  tells  us,  was  called  the  father  of  let- 
ters. He  had  sought  for  learned  men  all  over 
Europe,  and  collected  a  fine  library  at  Fontaine- 
bleau.  "What!"  said  his  sister  to  him,  "you 
are  founding  a  college  at  Paris  intended  to  re- 
ceive the  enlightened  men  of  foreign  countries, 
and  at  this  very  time  illustrious  French  scholars, 
Lefevre  of  Etaples  and  others,  are  compelled 
to  seek  an  asylum  out  of  the  kingdom !  You 
wish  to  be  a  propagator  of  learning,  while  musty 
hypocrites,  black,  white,  and  gray,  are  endeavor- 
ing to  stifle  it  at  home  !"  Margaret  was  not  con- 
tent to  love  with  word  and  tongue  ;  she  showed 
her  love  by  her  works.  The  thought  of  the 
poor  starving  exiles  who  knew  not  where  to 
lay  their  heads  haunted  her  in  the  magnificent 
palaces  of  Spain  ;  she  distributed  four  thousand 
gold  pieces  among  them,  says  one  of  the  ene- 
mies of  the  Reformation. 

She  did  more :  she  undertook  to  win  over  her 
brother  to  the  gospel,  and  endeavored,  she  tells 
us,  to  rekindle  the  true  fire  in  his  heart :  but, 
alas  !  that  fire  had  never  burned  there.  Touch- 
ed, however,  by  an  affection  so  lively  and  so 
pure,  by  a  devotedness  so  complete,  which 
would  have  gone,  if  necessary,  even  to  the 
sacrifice  of  her  life,  Francis,  desirous  of  giv- 
ing Margaret  a  token  of  his  gratitude,  com- 
manded the  Parliament  to  adjourn  until  his  re- 


296  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

turn  all  proceedings  against  the  evangelicals. 
"  I  intend,"  he  added,  "  to  give  the  men  of 
letters  special  marks  of  my  favor."  These 
words  greatly  astonished  the  Sorbonne  and 
the  Parliament,  the  city  and  the  court.  They 
looked  at  each  other  with  an  uneasy  air ;  grief, 
they  said,  had  affected  the  king's  judgment. 
"Accordingly,  they  paid  no  great  attention  to 
his  letter,  and  on  the  24th  of  November,  1525, 
twelve  days  after  its  receipt,  orders  were  given 
to  the  bishop  to  supply  the  money  necessary 
for  the  prosecution  of  the  heretics."  One  cir- 
cumstance filled  the  duchess  of  Alen^on  with 
hope :  the  king  declared  in  favor  of   Berquin. 

Three  monks,  his  judges,  entered  Berquin's 
prison  and  reproached  him  with  having  said 
that  "  the  gates  of  hell  can  do  nothing  against 
him  who  has  faith."  This  notion  of  a  salvation 
entirely  independent  of  priests  exasperated  the 
clergy.  "  Yes,"  answered  Berquin.  "  When 
the  eternal  Son  of  God  receives  the  sinner 
who  believes  in  his  death  and  makes  him  a 
child  of  God,  this  divine  adoption  cannot  be 
forfeited."  The  monks,  however,  could  see 
nothing  but  a  culpable  enthusiasm  in  this  joy- 
ful confidence.  Berquin  sent  Erasmus  the 
propositions  censured  by  his  judges.  *'  I  find 
nothing  impious  in  them,"  replied  the  prince 
of  the  schools. 

The  Sorbonne  did  not  think  the  same.     The 


LOUIS  BERQUIN.  297 

prior  of  the  Carthusians,  the  prior  of  the  Cel- 
estlnes,  monks  of  all  colors,  "  imps  of  Anti- 
christ," says  the  chronicler,  ''gave  help  to  the 
band  of  the  Sorbonne  in  order  to  destroy  by 
numbers  the  firmness  of  Berquin."  "Your 
books  will  be  burnt,"  said  the  pope's  delegates 
to  the  accused ;  "  you  will  make  an  apology, 
and  then  only  will  you  escape.  But  if  you  re- 
fuse what  is  demanded  of  you,  you  will  be  led 
to  the  stake." — "  I  will  not  yield  a  single  point," 
he  answered.  Whereupon  the  Sorbonnists,  the 
Carthusians  and  the  Celestines  exclaimed,  "Then 
it  is  all  over  with  you."  Berquin  waited  calmly 
for  the  fulfillment  of  these  threats. 

When  the  duchess  of  Alengon  heard  of  all 
this,  she  immediately  wrote  to  her  brother  and 
fell  at  her  mother's  knees.  Louisa  of  Savoy 
was  not  inaccessible  to  compassion  in  the  sol- 
emn hour  that  was  to  decide  her  son's  liberty. 
That  princess  was  one  of  those  profane  char- 
acters who  think  little  of  God  in  ordinary  times, 
but  cry  to  him  when  the  sea  in  its  rage  is  about 
to  swallow  them  up.  Shut  in  her  closet  with 
Margaret,  she  prayed  with  her  that  God  would 
restore  the  king  to  France.  The  duchess,  full 
of  charity  and  a  woman  of  great  tact,  took  ad- 
vantage of  one  of  these  moments  to  attempt 
to  soften  her  mother  in  favor  of  Berquin. 
She  succeeded :  the  regent  was  seized  with  a 
sudden  zeal,  and  ordered  the  pope's  delegates 


298  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

to  suspend  matters  until  after  the  king's  re- 
turn. 

The  delegates,  in  great  surprise,  read  the  let- 
ter over  and  over  again  :  it  seemed  very  strange 
to  them.  They  deliberated  upon  it,  and,  think- 
ing themselves  of  more  consequence  than  this 
woman,  quietly  pursued  their  work.  The  haugh- 
ty and  resolute  Louisa  of  Savoy,  having  heard 
of  their  insolence,  was  exasperated  beyond 
measure,  and  ordered  a  second  letter  to  be 
written  to  the  pontiff's  agents,  who  contented 
themselves  with  saying,  '' Non  possunius^'  and 
made  the  more  haste,  for  fear  their  victim  should 
escape  them.  The  king's  mother,  still  more  ir- 
ritated, applied  to  the  Parliament,  which  held 
Berquin  in  respect,  and  which  said  boldly  that 
the  whole  thing  was  nothing  but  a  monkish 
conspiracy.  At  this  the  members  of  the  Romish 
party  made  a  still  greater  disturbance.  Many 
of  them  (we  must  acknowledge)  thought  they 
were  doing  the  public  a  service.  "  Erasmus  is 
an  apostate,"  they  said,  "  and  Berquin  is  his  fol- 
lower. Their  opinions  are  heretical,  schismatic, 
scandalous.  We  must  burn  Erasmus's  books, 
and  Berquin  with  them." 

But  Margaret  did  not  lose  courage.  She  rec- 
ollected that  the  widow  in  the  Gospel  had  ob- 
tained her  request  by  her  importunity.  She 
entreated  her  mother;  she  wrote  to  her  bro- 
ther, "  If  you  do  not  interfere,  Berquin  is  a  dead 


LOUIS  BERQUIN.  299 

man.  '  Francis  I.  yielded  to  her  prayer,  and 
wrote  to  the  first  president  that  he,  the  king, 
would  make  him  answerable  for  Berquin's  life 
if  he  dared  to  condemn  him.  The  president 
stopped  all  proceedings  ;  the  monks  hung  their 
heads,  and  Beda  and  his  friends,  says  the  chron- 
icler, "  were  nigh  bursting  with  vexation." 

Berquin  was  still  a  prisoner,  sorrowful,  but 
comforted  by  his  faith,  unable  to  see  clearly 
into  the  future,  but  immovable  in  his  loyalty  to 
the  gospel.  The  king  determined  to  save  him 
from  "  the  claws  of  Beda's  faction."  "  I  will 
not  suffer  the  person  or  the  goods  of  this  gen- 
tleman to  be  injured,"  he  said  to  the  Parlia- 
ment on  the  1st  of  April;  "I  will  inquire  into 
the  matter  myself."  The  officers  sent  by  the 
king  took  the  Christian  captive  from  his  prison, 
and,  though  still  keeping  watch  over  him,  placed 
him  in  a  commodious  chamber.  Berquin  im- 
mediately set  about  forming  plans  for  the  tri- 
umph of  truth.  .  .  .  Though  treated  with  more 
consideration,  he  was  still  deprived  of  his  lib- 
erty. Margaret  was  unwearied  in  her  peti- 
tions to  the  king.  She  even  attempted  to  soft- 
en Montmorency,  but  the  Romish  theologians 
made  every  attempt  to  counteract  her  influ- 
ence. Friends  and  enemies  were  equally  of 
opinion  that  if  Berquin  were  free  he  would 
deal  many  a  hard  blow  at  the  hierarchy.  At 
length,  after  an   eight  months'  struggle,   Mar- 


300  MARTYRS  OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

garet  triumphed ;  Berquin  left  his  prison  in 
November,  1526,  just  at  the  time  when  Farel 
was  leaving  France. 

The  duchess  of  Alenq;on's  gratitude  imme- 
diately burst  forth.  Calling  Montmorency  by 
a  tenderer  name  than  usual,  she  said,  "  I  thank 
you,  my  son,  for  the  pleasure  you  have  done 
me  in  the  cause  of  poor  Berquin.  You  may 
say  that  you  have  taken  me  from  prison,  for  I 
value  it  as  a  favor  done  to  myself."  ...  "  My 
lord,"  she  wrote  to  the  king,  "my  desire  to 
obey  your  commands  was  already  very  great, 
but  you  have  doubled  it  by  the  charity  you 
have  been  pleased  to  show  toward  poor  Ber- 
quin. He  for  whom  he  suffered  will  take  pleas- 
ure in  the  mercy  you  have  shown  his  servant 
and  yours  for  your  honor ;  and  the  confusion 
of  those  who  have  forgotten  God  will  not  be 
less  than  the  perpetual  glory  which  God  will 
give  you." 

As  soon  as  Berquin  was  free  he  began  to 
meditate  on  his  ereat  work,  which  was  to  de- 
stroy  the  power  of  error.  His  liberation  was 
not  in  his  eyes  a  simple  deliverance  from  pris- 
on ;  it  was  a  call.  He  cared  little  (as  Erasmus 
entreated  him)  to  indulge  in  sweet  repose  on 
the  banks  of  the  Somme ;  his  earnest  desire 
was  to  fight.  He  held  that  the  life  of  a  Chris- 
tian man  should  be  a  continual  warfare.  No 
truce  with  Satan  !     Now,  to  him,  Satan  was  the 


LOUIS  BERQUIN.  3OI 

Sorbonne,  and  he  had  no  more  doubts  about 
the  victory  than  if  the  war  were  ended  already. 
Berquin  was  universally  known,  loved  and  re- 
spected. To  Farel's  decision  and  zeal  he  add- 
ed a  knowledge  of  the  world  which  was  then 
most  necessary.  Margaret  clung  to  him  at 
least  as  much  as  to  Roussel.  It  was  gener- 
ally thought  among  Christians  that  God  had 
brought  him  forth  from  prison  in  order  to  set 
him  at  the  head  of  the  Reform  in  France :  Ber- 
quin himself  thought  so.  The  friends  of  the 
Reformation  rejoiced,  and  an  important  cir- 
cumstance increased  their  hopes. 

Berquin,  who  was  liberated  by  the  king  in 
November,  1526,  had  formed  the  daring  plan 
of  rescuing  France  from  the  hands  of  the  pope. 
He  was  then  thirty  years  of  age,  and  possess- 
ed a  charm  in  his  character,  a  purity  in  his  life, 
which  even  his  enemies  admired — unwearied 
application  in  study,  indomitable  energy,  obsti- 
nate zeal  and  firm  perseverance  for  the  accom- 
plishment of  his  work.  Yet  there  was  one 
fault  in  him.  Calvin,  like  Luther,  proceeded 
by  the  positive  method,  putting  the  truth  in 
front,  and  in  this  way  seeking  to  effect  the  con- 
version of  souls  ;  but  Berquin  inclined  too  much 
at  times  to  the  negative  method.  Yet  he  was 
full  of  love,  and  havinQ^  found  in  God  a. Father 
and  in  Jesus  a  Saviour,  he  never  contended 
with  theologians,  except  to  impart  to  souls  that 


302  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

peace  and  joy  which  constituted  his  own  hap- 
piness. 

Berquin  did  not  move  forward  at  hazard ;  he 
had  calculated  everything.  He  had  said  to  him- 
self that  in  a  country  like  France  the  Reform- 
ation could  not  be  carried  through  against  the 
king's  will ;  but  he  thought  that  Francis  would 
allow  the  work  to  be  done,  if  he  did  not  do  it 
himself.  When  he  had  been  thrust  into  prison 
in  1523,  had  not  the  king,  then  on  his  way  to 
Italy,  sent  the  captain  of  the  guards  to  fetch 
him  in  order  to  save  his  life?  When  in  1526 
he  had  been  transferred  as  a  heretic  by  the 
clerical  judges  to  lay  judges,  had  not  Francis 
once  more  set  him  at  libertv  ? 

But  Berquin's  noble  soul  did  not  suffer  the 
triumph  of  truth  to  depend  upon  the  support 
of  princes.  A  new  era  was  then  beginning. 
God  was  reanimating  society,  which  had  lain 
torpid  during  the  night  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
and  Berquin  thought  that  God  would  not  be 
wanting  to  the  work.  It  is  a  saying  of  Calvin's, 
"  that  the  brightness  of  the  divine  power  alone 
scatters  all  silly  enchantments  and  vain  imagi- 
nations." Berquin  did  not  distinguish  this  truth 
so  clearly,  but  he  was  not  ignorant  of  it.  At 
the  same  time,  knowing  that  an  army  never 
gains  a  victory  unless  it  is  bought  with  the 
deaths  of  many  of  its  soldiers,  he  was  ready 
to  lay  down  his  life. 


LOUIS  BERQUIN.  3O3 

At  the  moment  when  he  was  advancing  al- 
most alone  to  attack  the  colossus  he  thought 
it  his  duty  to  inform  his  friends.  *'  Under  the 
cloak  of  religion,"  he  wrote  to  Erasmus,  "  the 
priests  hide  the  vilest  passions,  the  most  cor- 
rupt manners,  the  most  scandalous  unbelief. 
We  must  tear  off  the  veil  that  conceals  this  hid- 
eous mystery,  and  boldly  brand  the  Sorbonne, 
Rome  and  all  their  hirelings  with  impiety." 

At  these  words  his  friends  were  troubled 
and  alarmed ;  they  endeavored  to  check  his 
impetuosity.  "  The  greater  the  success  you 
promise  yourself,"  wrote  Erasmus,  "  the  more 
afraid  I  am.  O  my  friend !  live  in  retirement, 
taste  the  sweets  of  study,  and  let  the  priests 
rage  at  their  leisure.  Or,  if  you  think  they 
are  plotting  your  ruin,  employ  stratagem.  Let 
your  friends  at  court  obtain  some  embassy  for 
you  from  the  king,  and  under  that  pretext  leave 
France.  Think,  dear  Berquin,  think  constantly, 
what  a  hydra  you  are  attacking,  and  by  how 
many  mouths  it  spits  its  venom.  Your  enemy 
is  immortal,  for  a  faculty  never  dies.  You  will 
begin  by  attacking  three  monks  only,  but  you 
will  raise  up  against  you  numerous  legions,  rich, 
mighty  and  perverse.  Just  now  the  princes  are 
for  you,  but  backbiters  will  contrive  to  alienate 
their  affection.  As  for  me,  I  declare  I  will  have 
nothing  to  do  with  the  Sorbonne  and  its  armies 
of  monks." 


304  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

This  letter  disturbed  Berquin.  He  read  it 
again  and  again,  and  each  time  his  trouble 
increased.  He  an  ambassador !  he  the  re- 
presentative of  the  king  at  foreign  courts  ! 
Ah !  when  Satan  tempted  Christ  he  offered 
him  the  kingdoms  of  this  world.  Better  be 
a  martyr  on  the  Greve  for  the  love  of  the 
Saviour.  Berquin  separated  from  Erasmus. 
"  His  spirit,"  said  his  friends,  "  resembles  a 
palm  tree ;  the  more  you  desire  to  bend  it, 
the  straighter  it  grows."  A  trifling  circum- 
stance contributed  to  strengthen  his  decision. 

One  day  Beda,  syndic  of  the  Sorbonne,  went 
to  court,  where  he  had  some  business  to  trans- 
act with  the  king  on  behalf  of  that  body.  Some 
time  before  he  had  published  a  refutation  of  the 
Paraphrases  a7zd  Annotations  jdi  Erasmus,  and 
Francis  I.,  who  boasted  of  being  a  pupil  of  this 
king  of  letters,  having  heard  of  Beda's  attack,  ^ 
had  given  way  to  a  fit  of  passion.  As  soon, 
therefore,  as  he  heard  that  Beda  was  in  the 
palace,  he  gave  orders  that  he  should  be  ar- 
rested and  kept  prisoner.  Accordingly,  the 
syndic  was  seized,  shut  up  in  a  chamber  and 
closely  watched.  Beda  was  exasperated,  and 
the  hatred  he  felt  ac^ainst  the  Reformation 
was  turned  against  the  king.  Some  of  his 
friends,  on  hearing  of  this  strange  adventure, 
conjured  Francis  to  set  him  at  liberty.  He 
consented  on   the  following  day,  but  on   con- 


LOUIS  BERQUIN,  305 

dition  that  the  syndic  should  appear  when  call- 
ed for. 

The  Sorbonne,  said  Berquln  to  himself,  rep- 
resents the  papacy.  It  must  be  overthrown  in 
order  that  Christ  may  triumph.  He  began  first 
to  study  the  writings  of  Beda,  who  had  so  bit- 
terly censured  those  of  his  adversaries,  and  ex- 
tracted from  them  twelve  propositions  "  man- 
ifestly impious  and  blasphemous"  in  the  opinion 
of  Erasmus.  Then,  taking  his  manuscript,  he 
proceeded  to  court  and  presented  it  to  the  king, 
who  said,  ''  I  will  interdict  Beda's  polemical  wri- 
tings." As  Francis  smiled  upon  him,  Berquin 
resolved  to  go  farther — namely,  to  attack  the 
Sorbonne  and  popery,  as  equally  dangerous  to 
the  State  and  to  the  Church,  and  to  make  pub- 
lic certain  doctrines  of  theirs  which  struck  at 
the  power  of  the  throne.  He  approached  the 
king,  and  said  to  him  in  a  lower  tone,  "  Sire,  I 
have  discovered  in  the  acts  and  papers  of  the 
Sorbonne  certain  secrets  of  importance  to  the 
state — some  mysteries  of  iniquity."  Nothing 
was  better  calculated  to  exasperate  Francis  I. 
''  Show  me  those  passages,"  he  exclaimed. 
Meantime,  he  told  the  Reformer  that  the 
twelve  propositions  of  the  syndic  of  the  Sor- 
bonne should  be  examined.  Berquin  left  the 
palace  full  of  hope.  "  I  will  follow  these  re- 
doubtable hornets  into  their  holes,"  he  said  to 
his  friends.  "  I  will  fall  upon  these  insensate 
20 


3P6  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

babblers,  and  scourge  them  on  their  own  dung- 
hill." Some  people  who  heard  him  thought 
him  out  of  his  mind.  "  This  gentleman  will 
certainly  get  himself  put  to  death,"  they  said, 
*'  and  he  will  richly  deserve  it." 

Everything  seemed  to  favor  Berquin's  de- 
sign. Francis  I.  was  acting  the  part  of  Fred- 
erick the  Wise :  he  seemed  even  more  ardent 
than  that  moderate  protector  of  Luther.  On 
the  1 2th  of  July,  1527,  the  bishop  of  Bazas  ap- 
peared at  court,  whither  he  had  been  summon- 
ed by  the  king.  Francis  gave  him  the  twelve 
famous  propositions  he  had  received  from  Ber- 
quin,  and  comm9,nded  him  to  take  them  to  the 
rector  of  the  university,  with  orders  to  have 
them  examined  not  only  by  doctors  of  divinity, 
of  whom  he  had  suspicions  in  such  a  matter, 
but  by  the  four  assembled  faculties.  Berquin 
hastened  to  report  this  to  Erasmus,-  still  hoping 
to  gain  him  over  by  the  good  news. 

Erasmus  had  never  before  felt  so  alarmed ; 
he  tried  to  stop  Berquin  in  his  "  mad  "  under- 
taking. The  eulogies  which  this  faithful  Chris- 
tian lavished  upon  him  particularly  filled  him 
with  terror:  he  would  a  thousand  times  rather 
they  had  been  insults.  ''  The  love  which  you 
show  for  me,"  he  wrote  to  Berquin,  "  stirs  up  un- 
speakable hatred  against  me  everywhere.  The 
step  you  have  taken  with  the  king  will  only 
serve  to  irritate  the  hornets.     You  wish  for  a 


LOUIS  BERQUIN.  307 

Striking  victory  rather  than  a  sure  one ;  your 
expectations  will  be  disappointed ;  the  Bedists 
are  contriving  some  atrocious  plot.  Beware ! 
Even  should  your  cause  be  holier  than  that  of 
Christ  himself,  your  enemies  have  resolved  to 
put  you  to  death.  You  say  that  the  king  pro- 
tects you :  do  not  trust  to  that ;  the  favor  of 
princes  is  short-lived.  You  do  not  care  for 
your  life,  you  add.  Good !  but  think  at  least 
of  learning  and  of  our  friends,  who,  alas !  will 
perish  with  you." 

Berquin  was  grieved  at  this  letter.  In  his 
opinion  the  moment  was  unparalleled.  ''If 
Erasmus,  Francis  I.  and  Berquin  act  in  har- 
mony, no  one  can  resist  them ;  France,  and 
perhaps  Europe,  will  be  reformed.  And  it  is 
just  when  the  king  of  France  is  stretching  out 
his  hand  that  the  scholar  of  Rotterdam  draws 
his  back!  What  can  be  done  without  Eras- 
mus ?"  A  circumstance  occurred,  however, 
which  gave  some  hope  to  the  evangelist. 

The  Sorbonne,  little  heeding  the  king's  oppo- 
sition, persevered  in  their  attacks  upon  learn- 
ing. They  forbade  the  professors  in  the  col- 
leges to  read  the  Colloquies  of  Erasmus  with 
their  pupils,  and  excommunicated  the  king  of 
the  schools  in  the  schools  themselves.  Eras- 
mus, who  was  a  vain,  susceptible,  choleric  man, 
will  now  unite  with  Berquin :  the  latter  had  no 
doubt  of  it.     "  The  time  is  come,"  wrote  Ber- 


308  MARTYRS    OF   THE    REFORMATION. 

quin  to  the  illustrious  scholar ;  *'  let  us  pull  off 
the  mask  behind  which  these  theologians  hide 
themselves."  But  the  more  Berquin  urged 
Erasmus,  the  more  Erasmus  shrank  back  ;  he 
wished  for  peace  at  any  cost.  It  was  of  no 
use  to  point  to  the  blows  which  the  Sorbonne 
were  aiming  at  him  ;  it  pleased  him  to  be  beaten, 
not  from  weakness,  but  from  fear  of  the  world. 
The  wary  man,  who  was  now  growing  old,  be- 
came impatient,  not  against  his  slanderers,  but 
aorainst  his  friend.  His  "son"  wanted  to  lead 
him  as  if  he  were  his  master.  He  replied  with 
sadness,  almost  bitterness,  "  Truly  I  admire  you, 
my  dear  Berquin.  You  imagine,  then,  that  I 
have  nothing  else  to  do  than  spend  my  days 
in  batding  with  theologians.  I  would  rather  see 
all  my  books  condemned  to  the  flames  than  go 
fighting  at  my  age."  Unhappily,  Erasmus  did 
not  abandon  his  books  only ;  he  abandoned 
truth ;  and  there  he  was  wrong.  Berquin  did 
not  despair  of  victory,  and  undertook  to  win  it 
unaided.  He  thouorht  to  himself,  "Erasmus  ad- 
mires  in  the  gospel  a  certain  harmony  with  the 
wisdom  of  antiquity,  but  he  does  not  adore  in 
it  the  foolishness  of  the  cross :  he  is  a  theorist, 
not  a  Reformer."  From  that  hour  Berquin 
wrote  more  rarely  and  more  coldly  to  his  illus- 
trious master,  and  employed  all  his  strength  to 
carry  by  main  force  the  place  he  was  attack- 
ing.    If  Erasmus,  like  Achilles,  had  redred  to 


LOUIS  BERQUIN.  3O9 

his  tent,  were  not  Margaret  and  Francis,  and 
truth  especially,  fighting  by  his  side  ? 

Wherever  Berquin  or  other  evangelicals 
turned  their  steps,  they  encountered  fierce 
glances  and  heard  cries  of  indignation.  "  What 
tyrannical  madness  !  what  platonic  rage !"  call- 
ed out  the  mob  as  they  passed.  "  Rascally 
youths !  imps  of  Satan  !  brands  of  hell !  vile- 
naille  brimful  of  Leviathans !  venomous  ser- 
pents!  servants  of  Lucifer!"  This  was  the 
usual  vocabulary. 

Berquin,  as  he  heard  this  torrent  of  insult, 
answered  not  a  word :  he  thought  it  his  duty  to 
let  the  storm  blow  over,  and  kept  himself  tran- 
quil and  solitary  before  God.  Sometimes,  how- 
ever, his  zeal  caught  fire ;  there  were  sudden 
movements  in  his  heart,  as  of  a  wind  tossing  up 
the  waves  with  their  foamy  heads  ;  but  he  strug- 
gled against  these  "gusts"  of  the  flesh;  he  or- 
dered his  soul  to  be  still,  and  ere  long  nothing 
was  left  but  some  little  "fluttering." 

While  Berquin  was  silent  before  the  tempest, 
Beda  and  his  party  did  all  in  their  power  to 
bring  down  the  bolt  upon  that  haughty  head 
which  refused  to  bend  before  them.  "See!" 
they  said,  as  they  described  the  mutilation  of 
Our  Lady — "see  to  what  our  toleration  of  her- 
esy leads  !  Unless  we  uproot  it  entirely,  it  will 
soon  multiply  and  cover  the  whole  country." 

The    doctors    of    the    Sorbonne    and    other 


3IO  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

priests  went  out  of  their  houses  in  crowds ; 
they  spread  right  and  left,  buzzing  in  the 
streets,  buzzing  in  the  houses,  buzzing  in  the 
palaces.  '*  These  hornets,"  says  a  chronicler, 
"  make  their  tedious  noise  heard  by  all  they 
meet,  and  urge  them  on  with  repeated  stings." 
"Away  with  Berquin  !"  was  their  cry. 

His  friends  grew  alarmed.  "  Make  your  es- 
cape !"  wrote  Erasmus  to  him.  ''  Make  your 
escape !"  repeated  the  friends  of  learning  and 
of  the  gospel  around  him.  But  Berquin 
thought  that  by  keeping  quiet  he  did  all  that 
he  ought  to  do.  Flight  he  would  have  consid- 
ered a  disgrace,  a  crime.  "With  God's  help," 
he  said,  "  I  shall  conquer  the  monks,  the  uni- 
versity, and  the   Parliament  itself." 

Such  confidence  exasperated  the  Sorbonne. 
Beda  and  his  followers  stirred  university  and 
Parliament,  city,  court  and  Church,  heaven  and 
earth.  Francis  I.  was  puzzled,  staggered  and 
annoyed.  At  last,  being  beset  on  every  side, 
and  hearing  it  continually  repeated  that  Ber- 
quin's  doctrines  were  the  cause  of- the  outrage 
in  the  Rue  des  Rosiers,  the  king  yielded,  be- 
lieving, however,  that  he  yielded  but  little :  he 
consented  only  that  an  inquiry  should  be  open- 
ed against  Berquin.  The  wild  beast  leapt  with 
joy.  His  prey  was  not  yet  given  to  him,  but 
he  already  foresaw  the  hour  when  he  would 
quench  his  thirst  in  blood.  .  .  .  The  Sorbonne 


LOUIS  BERQUIN.  3II 

was  increasing  Its  exertions  to  destroy  Berquln, 
who,  forsaken  by  almost  everybody,  had  no  one 
to  support  him  but  God  and  the  queen  of  Na- 
varre. 

Berquln  now  resolved  to  address  the  king 
and  to  get  Margaret  to  support  him.  "  It  was 
generally  reported,"  says  one  of  the  enemies 
of  the  Reformation,  *'  that  the  queen  of  Na- 
varre took  wondrous  pains  to  save  those  who 
were  In  danger,  and  that  she  alone  prevented 
the  Reformation  from  being  stifled  in  the  cra- 
dle." Berquln  went  to  the  palace  and  made 
his  danger  known  to  the  queen.  He  found  In 
Margaret  the  compassion  which  failed  him  else- 
where. She  knew  that  we  ought  not  "  to  stand 
aside  from  those  who  suffer  persecution  for  the 
name  of  Christ,  and  would  not  be  ashamed  of 
those  In  whom  there  was  nothinof  shameful." 
Margaret  Immediately  took  up  her  pen,  and 
sitting  down  at  that  table  where  she  had  so 
often  pleaded  both  In  prose  and  verse  the 
cause  of  Christ  and  of  Christians,  she  wrote 
the   king  the   following  letter: 

"  MoNSEiGNEUR :  The  unhappy  Berquln,  who 
maintains  that  God,  through  your  goodness, 
has  twice  saved  his  life,  presents  himself  before 
you  to  make  manifest  his  Innocence  to  you, 
having  no  one  else  to  whom  he  can  apply. 
Knowing,   monselgneur,  the    esteem    In    which 


312  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

you  hold  him,  and  the  desire  which  he  has  now 
and  always  has  had  to  serve  you,  I  fear  not  to 
entreat  that  you  will  be  pleased  to  have  pity 
upon  him.  He  will  convince  you  that  these 
heretic-finders  are  more  slanderous  and  dis- 
obedient toward  you  than  zealous  for  the  faith. 
He  knows,  monseigneur,  that  you  desire  to 
maintain  the  rights  of  every  one,  and  that  the 
just  man  needs  no  advocate  in  the  eyes  of 
your  compassion.  For  this  cause  I  shall  say 
no  more.  Entreating  Him  who  has  given  you 
such  graces  and  virtues  to  grant  you  a  long 
and  happy  life,  in  order  that  he  may  long  be 
glorified  by  you  in  this  world  and  everlastingly 
in  the  world  to  come, 

"Your  most  obedient  and  most  humble  sub- 
ject and  sister,  Margaret." 

Having  finished,  the  queen  rose  and  gave 
the  letter  to  Berquin,  who  immediately  sought 
an  audience  of  the  king.  We  know  not  how 
he  was  received,  or  what  effect  Margaret's  in- 
tercession had  upon  Francis.  It  would  seem, 
however,  that  the  king  addressed  a  few  kind 
words  to  him.  We  know,  at  least,  that  Beda 
and  the  Sorbonne  were  uneasy,  and  that,  fear- 
ing to  see  their  victim  once  more  escape  them, 
they  increased  their  exertions  and  brought  one 
charee  after  another  acrainst  him.  At  last  the 
authorities  gave  way;    the  police  received  or- 


LOUIS  BERQUIN.      ^  313 

ders  to  avoid  every  demonstration  calculated  to 
alarm  him,  lest  he  should  escape  to  Erasmus 
at  Basle.  All  their  measures  were  arranged, 
and  at  the  moment  when  he  least  expected  it, 
about  three  weeks  before  Easter  (in  March, 
1529),  Berquin  was  arrested  and  taken  to  the 
Conciergerie. 

Thus,  then,  was  "  the  most  learned  of  the 
nobles;"  as  he  was  termed,  thrown  into  prison 
in  despite  of  the  queen.  He  paced  sadly  up 
and  down  his  cell,  and  one  thought  haunted 
him.  Having  been  seized  very  unexpectedly, 
he  had  left  in  his  room  at  Paris  certain  books 
which  were  condemned  at  Rome,  and  which 
consequently  might  ruin  him.  "Alas!"  he  ex- 
claimed, "  they  will  cost  me  serious  trouble." 
Berquin  resolved  to  apply  to  a  Christian  friend 
whom  he  could  trust  to  prevent  the  evil  which 
he  foresaw ;  and  the  next  day  after  his  incar- 
ceration, when  the  domestic,  who  had  free  ac- 
cess to  him  and  passed  in  and  out  on  business, 
came  for  orders,  the  prisoner  gave  him,  with 
an  anxious  and  mysterious  air,  a  letter  which 
he  said  was  of  the  greatest  importance.  The 
servant  immediately  hid  it  under  his  dress.  **My 
life  is  at  stake,"  repeated  Berquin.  In  that  let- 
ter, addressed  to  a  familiar  friend,  the  prisoner 
begged  him  without  delay  to  remove  the  books 
pointed  out  to  him  and  to  burn  them. 

The  servant,  who  did  not  possess  the  courage 


314  MARTYRS  OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

of  a  hero,  departed  trembling.  His  emotion  in- 
creased as  he  proceeded,  his  strength  failed  him, 
and  as  he  was  crossing  the  Pont  au  Change,  and 
found  himself  in  front  of  the  image  of  Our 
Lady,  known  as  la  belle  miage,  the  poor  fellow, 
who  was  rather  superstitious,  although  in  Ber- 
quin's  service,  lost  his  presence  of  mind  and 
fainted.  ''  A  sinking  of  the  heart  came  over 
him,  and  he  fell  to  the  ground  as  if  in  a  swoon," 
says  the  Catholic  chronicler.  The  neighbors 
and  the  passers-by  gathered  round  him  and 
lifted  him  up.  One  of  these  kind  citizens, 
eager  to  assist  him,  unbuttoned  his  coat  to 
eive  him  room  to  breathe,  and  found  the  let- 
ter  which  had  been  so  carefully  hidden.  The 
man  opened  and  read  it ;  he  was  frightened, 
and  told  the  surrounding  crowd  what  were 
its  contents.  The  people  declared  it  to  be 
a  miracle.  ''He  is  a  heretic,"  they  said.  "If 
he  has  fallen  like  a  dead  man,  it  is  the  penalty 
of  his  crime  ;  it  was  Our  Lady  who  did  it." — 
''  Give  me  the  letter,"  said  one  of  the  specta- 
tors; "the  famous  Jacobin  doctor  who  is  preach- 
ine  the  Lent  sermons  at  St.  Bartholomew's 
dines  with  me  to-day.  I  will  show  it  to  him." 
When  the  dinner-hour  came  the  company  in- 
vited by  this  citizen  arrived,  and  among  them  was 
the  celebrated  preacher  of  the  Rue  St.  Jacques 
in  his  white  robe  and  scapulary  and  pointed 
hood.     This  Jacobin  monk  was  no  holiday  in- 


LOUIS  BERQUIN.  315 

quisitor.  He  understood  the  great  importance 
of  the  letter,  and,  quitting  the  table,  hastened 
with  it  to  Beda,  who,  quite  overjoyed  at  the 
discovery,  eagerly  laid  it  before  the  court. 
The  Christian  gentleman  was  ruined.  The 
judges  found  the  letter  very  compromising. 
"  Let  the  said  Berquin,"  they  ordered,  "  be 
closely  confined  in  a  strong  tower."  This  was 
done.  Beda,  on  his  side,  displayed  fresh  ac- 
tivity, for  time  pressed  and  it  was  necessary 
to  strike  a  decisive  blow.  With  some  the 
impetuous  syndic  spoke  gently,  with  others 
he  spoke  loudly ;  he  employed  threats  and 
promises,  and  nothing  seemed  to  tire  him. 

From  that  hour  Berquin's  case  appeared 
desperate.  Most  of  his  friends  abandoned 
him ;  they  were  afraid  lest  Margaret's  inter- 
vention, always  so  powerful,  should  now  prove 
unavailing.  The  captive  alone  did  not  give 
way  to  despair.  Although  shut  up  in  a  strong 
tower,  he  possessed  liberty  and  joy,  and,  up- 
lifting his  soul  to  God,  he  hoped  even  against 
hope. 

On  Friday,  the  i6th  of  April,  1529,  the  in- 
quiry was  finished,  and  at  noon  Berquin  was 
brought  into  court.  The  countenance  of  Bu- 
daeus  was  sorrowful  and  kind,  but  the  other 
judges  bore  the  stamp  of  severity  on  their  fea- 
tures. The  prisoner  s  heart  was  free  from  ran- 
cor, his  hands  pure  from  revenge,  and  the  calm 


3l6  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

of  innocence  was  on  his  face.  ''  Louis  Berquin," 
said  the  president,  **  you  are  convicted  of  be- 
longing to  the  sect  of  Luther,  and  of  having 
written  wicked  books  against  the  majesty  of 
God  and  of  his  glorious  mother.  Wherefore  we 
condemn  you  to  do  public  penance,  bareheaded 
and  with  a  lighted  taper  in  your  hand,  in  the 
great  court  of  our  palace,  asking  pardon  of 
God,  of  the  king  and  of  justice  for  the  offence 
you  have  committed.  You  shall  then  be  taken, 
bareheaded  and  on  foot,  to  the  Greve,  where 
you  shall  see  your  books  burnt.  Next  you 
shall  be  led  to  the  front  of  the  church  of  Notre 
Dame,  where  you  shall  do  penance  to  God  and 
the  glorious  Virgin,  his  mother.  Afterward  you 
shall  have  your  tongue  pierced — that  instru- 
ment of  unrighteousness  by  which  you  have 
so  grievously  sinned.  Lastly,  you  shall  be 
taken  to  the  prison  of  Monsieur  de  Paris  (the 
bishop),  and  be  shut  up  there  all  your  life  be- 
tween four  walls  of  stone  ;  and  we  forbid  you 
to  be  supplied  either  with  books  to  read  or  pen 
or  ink  to  write." 

Berquin,  startled  at  hearing  such  a  sentence, 
which  Erasmus  terms  *'  atrocious,"  and  which 
the  pious  nobleman  was  far  from  expecting,  at 
first  remained  silent,  but  soon  regaining  his 
usual  courage  and  looking  firmly  at  his  judges, 
he  said,  "  I  appeal  to  the  king," — ''  Take  care," 
answered  his  judges ;  "if  you  do  not  acquiesce 


LOUIS  BERQUIN.  317 

in  our  sentence  we  will  find  means  to  prevent 
you  from  ever  appealing  again."  This  was 
clear.     Berquin  was  sent  back  to  prison. 

Margaret  began  to  fear  that  her  brother 
would  withdraw  his  support  from  the  evangel- 
icals. If  the  Reformation  had  been  a  courtly 
religion,  Francis  would  have  protected  it,  but 
the  independent  air  that  it  seemed  to  take,  and, 
above  all,  its  inflexible  holiness,  made  it  distaste- 
ful to  him.  The  queen  of  Navarre  saw  that 
the  unhappy  prisoner  had  none  but  the  Lord 
on  his  side.     She  prayed — 

"  Thou,  God,  alone  canst  cry  : 
•  Touch  not  my  son,  take  not  his  life  away.' 
Thou  only  canst  thy  sovereign  hand  outstretch 
To  ward  the  blow." 

Everything  indicated  that  the  blow  would  be 
struck.  On  the  afternoon  of  the  very  day 
when  the  sentence  had  been  delivered,  Mail- 
lard,  the  lieutenant-criminel,  with  the  archers, 
bowmen  and  arquebusiers  of  the  city,  surround- 
ed the  Conciergerie.  It  was  thought  that  Ber- 
quin's  last  hour  had  come,  and  an  immense 
crowd  hurried  to  the  spot.  "  More  than  twen- 
ty thousand  people  came  to  see  the  execution," 
says  a  manuscript.  "They  are  going  to  take 
one  of  the  king's  officers  to  the  Greve,"  said 
the  spectators.  Maillard,  leaving  his  troops 
under  arms,  entered  the  prison,  ordered  the 
martyr's  cell  to  be  opened,  and  told  him  that 


3l8  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

he  had  come  to  execute  the  sentence.  "  I  have 
appealed  to  the  king,"  repHed  the  prisoner. 
The  Heutenant-criminel  withdrew.  Everybody 
expected  to  see  him  followed  by  Berquin,  and 
all  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  gate ;  but  no  one 
appeared.  The  commander  of  the  troops  or- 
dered them  to  retire ;  the  archers  marched 
back,  and  "the  great  throng  of  people  that 
was  round  the  court-house  and  in  the  city  sep- 
arated." The  first  president  immediately  call- 
ed the  court  together  to  take  the  necessary 
measures.  "  We  must  lose  no  time,"  said  some, 
"  for  the  king  has  twice  already  rescued  him 
from  our  hands."     Was  there  no  hope  left? 

There  were  in  France  at  that  time  two  men 
of  the  noblest  character,  both  friends  of  learn- 
ing, whose  whole  lives  had  been  consecrated 
to  doing  what  was  right:  they  were  Budseus 
on  the  bench  and  Berquin  in  his  cell.  The  first 
was  united  to  the  second  by  the  purest  friend- 
ship, and  his  only  thought  was  how  to  save 
him.  But  what  could  he  do  singly  against  the 
Parliament  and  the  Sorbonne  ?  Budaeus  shud- 
dered when  he  heard  of  his  friend's  appeal ;  he 
knew  the  danger  to  which  this  step  exposed 
him,  and  hastened  to  the  prison.  "  Pray  do 
not  appeal,"  said  he;  "a  second  sentence  is 
all  ready,  and  it  orders  you  to  be  put  to  death. 
If  you  accept  the  first,  we  shall  be  able  to  save 
you    eventually.     Pray  do    not  ruin   yourself." 


LOUIS  BERQUIN.  319 

Berquin,  a  more  decided  man  than  Budaeus, 
would  radier  die  than  make  any  concession  to 
error.  His  friend,  however,  did  not  slacken 
his  exertions ;  he  desired  at  whatever  risk  to 
to  save  one  of  the  most  distinguished  men  of 
France.  Three  whole  days  were  spent  by  him 
in  the  most  energetic  efforts.  He  had  hardly 
quitted  his  friend  before  he  returned  and  sat 
down  by  his  side  or  walked  with  him  sorrow- 
fully up  and  down  the  prison.  He  entreated 
him  for  his  own  safety,  for  the  good  of  the 
Church  and  for  the  welfare  of  France.  Ber- 
quin made  no  reply ;  only,  after  a  long  appeal 
from  Budaeus,  he  gave  a  nod  of  dissent.  Ber- 
quin, says  the  historian  of  the  University  of 
Paris,  "  sustained  the  encounter  with  indomi- 
table obstinacy." 

Would  he  continue  firm  ?  Many  evangelicals 
were  anxiously  watching  the  struggle.  Remem- 
bering the  fall  of  the  apostle  Peter  at  the  voice 
of  a  serving-maid,  they  said  one  to  another  that 
a  trifling  opposition  was  sufficient  to  make  the 
strongest  stumble.  "Ah!"  said  Calvin,  ''if  we 
cease  but  for  an  instant  to  lean  upon  the  hand 
of  God,  a  puff  of  wind  or  the  rustling  of  a 
falling  leaf  is  enough,  .  .  .  and  straightway  we 
fall."  It  was  not  a  puff  of  wind,  but  a  tempest 
rather,  by  which  Berquin  was  assailed.  While 
the  threatening  voices  of  his  enemies  were  roar- 
ing around  him,  the  gentle  voice  of  Budaeus,  full 


320  MAKTYRS   OF   THE   RE  FORMATION. 

of  the  tenderest  affection,  penetrated  the  pris- 
oner's heart  and  shook  his  firmest  resolutions. 
"  O  my  dear  friend,"  said  Budseus,  ''  there  are 
better  times  coming-,  for  which  you  ought  to 
preserve  yourself."  Then  he  stopped,  and 
added  in  a  more  serious  tone,  "  You  are  guilty 
toward  God  and  man  if  by  your  own  act  you 
give  yourself  up  to  death." 

Berquin  was  touched  at  last  by  the  perseve- 
rance of  this  great  man  ;  he  began  to  waver  ;  his 
sight  became  troubled.  Turning  his  face  away 
from  God,  he  bent  it  to  the  ground.  The  power 
of  the  Holy  Spirit  was  extinguished  in  him  for 
a  moment  (to  use  the  language  of  a  Reformer), 
and  he  thought  he  might  be  more  useful  to  the 
kingdom  of  God  by  preserving  himself  for  the 
future  than  by  yielding  himself  up  to  present 
death.  ''All  that  we  ask  of  you  is  to  beg  for 
pardon.  Do  we  not  all  need  pardon?"  Berquin 
consented  to  ask  pardon  of  God  and  the  king 
in  the  great  court  of  the  palace  of  justice. 

Budaeus  ran  off  with  delight  and  emotion  to 
inform  his  colleagues  of  the  prisoner's  conces- 
sion. But  at  the  very  moment  when  he  thought 
he  had  saved  his  friend  he  felt  a  sudden  sadness 
come  over  him.  He  knew  at  what  a  price  Ber- 
quin would  have  to  purchase  his  life ;  besides, 
had  he  not  seen  that  it  was  only  after  a  struggle 
of  nearly  sixty  hours  that  the  prisoner  had  giv- 
en way  ?     Budaeus  was  uneasy.     "  I  know  the 


LOUIS  BERQUIN.  32 1 

man's  mind,"  he  said.  "  His  ingenuousness  and 
the  confidence  he  has  in  the  goodness  of  his 
cause  will  be  his  ruin." 

Durinof  this  interval  there  was  a  fierce  strugf- 
gle  in  Berquin's  soul.  All  peace  had  forsaken 
him;  his  conscience  spoke  tumultuously.  "No," 
he  said  to  himself,  "  no  sophistry  !  Truth  before 
all  thingrs  !  We  must  fear  neither  man  nor  tor- 
ture,  but  render  all  obedience  to  God.  I  will 
persevere  to  the  end  ;  I  will  not  pray  the  Leader 
of  this  good  war  for  my  discharge.  Christ  will 
not  have  his  soldiers  take  their  ease  until  they 
have  conquered  over  death." 

Budaeus  returned  to  the  prison  shortly  after- 
ward. "  I  will  retract  nothing,"  said  his  friend  ; 
*'  I  would  rather  die  than  by  my  silence  counte- 
nance the  condemnation  of  truth."  He  was 
lost!  Budseus  withdrew,  pale  and  frightened, 
and  communicated  the  terrible  news  to  his  col- 
leagues. Beda  and  his  friends  were  filled  with 
joy,  being  convinced  that  to  remove  Berquin 
from  the  number  of  the  living  was  to  remove 
the  Reformation  from  France.  The  judges,  by 
an  unprecedented  exercise  of  power,  revised 
their  sentence  and  condemned  the  nobleman 
to  be  strangled  and  then  burnt  on  the  Greve. 

Margaret,  who  was  at  St.  Germain,  was  heart- 
broken when  she  heard  of  this  unexpected  se- 
verity. Alas !  the  king  was  at  Blois  with  Mad- 
ame   .     Would  there  be  time  to  reach  him  ? 

21 


322  MARTYRS   OF   THE    REFORMATION. 

She  would  try  ?  She  wrote  to  him  again,  apol- 
ogizing for  the  very  humble  recommendations 
she  was  continually  laying  before  him,  and  add- 
ing, "  Be  pleased,  sire,  to  have  pity  on  poor 
Berquin,  who  is  suffering  only  because  he  loves 
the  word  of  God  and  obeys  you.  This  is  the 
reason  why  those  who  did  the  contrary  during 
your  captivity  hate  him  so ;  and  their  malicious 
hypocrisy  has  enabled  them  to  find  advocates 
about  you  to  make  you  forget  his  sincere  faith 
in  God  and  his  love  for  you/'  After  having  ut- 
tered this  cry  of  anguish  the  queen  of  Navarre 
waited. 

But  Francis  gave  no  signs  of  life.  In  his 
excuse  it  has  been  urged  that  if  he  had  at  that 
time  been  victorious  abroad  and  honored  at 
home,  he  would  have  saved  Berquin  once  more ; 
but  the  troubles  in  Italy  and  the  intrigues  mixed 
up  with  the  treaty  of  Cambray,  signed  three 
months  later,  occupied  all  his  thoughts.  These 
are  strange  reasons.  The  fact  is,  that  if  the 
king  (as  is  probable)  had  desired  to  save  Ber- 
quin he  had  not  the  opportunity  ;  the  enemies 
of  this  faithful  Christian  had  provided  against 
that.  They  had  scarcely  got  the  sentence  in 
their  hands  when  they  called  for  its  immediate 
execution.  They  fancied  they  could  already 
hear  the  gallop  of  the  horse  arriving  from 
Blois  and  see  the  messenger  bringing  the 
pardon.    Beda  fanned  the  flame.    Not  a  week's 


LOUIS  BERQUIN.  323 

delay,  not  even  a  day  or  an  hour !  "  But,"  said 
some,  "  this  prevents  the  king  from  exercising 
the  right  of  pardon,  and  is  an  encroachment 
upon  his  royal  authority." — "  It  matters  not ; 
put  him  to  death !"  The  judges  determined 
to  have  the  sentence  carried  out  the  very  day 
it  was  delivered,  ''in  order  that  he  might  not 
be  helped  by  the  king!' 

In  the  morning  of  the  2 2d  of  April,  1529, 
the  officers  of  Parliament  entered  the  gloomy 
cell  where  Berquin  was  confined.  The  pious 
disciple,  on  the  point  of  offering  up  his  life 
voluntarily  for  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ,  was 
absorbed  in  prayer ;  he  had  long  sought  for 
God  and  had  found  him ;  the  Lord  was  near 
him  and  peace  filled  his  soul.  Having  God 
for  his  Father,  he  knew  that  nothing  would  be 
wanting  to  him  in  that  last  hour  when  every- 
thing else  was  to  fail  him  :  he  saw  a  triumph 
in  reproach,  a  deliverance  in  death.  At  the 
sight  of  the  officers  of  the  court,  some  of 
whom  appeared  embarrassed,  Berquin  under- 
stood what  they  wanted.  He  was  ready  ;  he 
rose  calm  and  firm,  and  followed  them.  The 
officers  handed  him  over  to  the  lieutenant- 
criminel  and  his  sergeants,  who  were  to  carry 
out  the  sentence. 

Meanwhile,  several  companies  of  archers  and 
bowmen  were  drawn  up  in  front  of  the  Con- 
cierp-erie.     These   armed  men  were  not  alone 


324  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

around  the  prison.  The  news  had  spread  far 
and  wide  that  a  gentleman  of  the  court,  a  friend 
of  Erasmus  and  of  the  queen  of  Navarre,  was 
about  to  be  put  to  death,  and  accordingly  there 
was  a  great  commotion  in  the  capital.  A  crowd 
of  common  people,  citizens,  priests  and  monks, 
with  a  few  gentlemen  and  friends  of  the  con- 
demned noble,  waited,  some  with  anger,  others 
with  curiosity  and  others  with  anguish,  for  the 
moment  when  he  would  appear.  Budaeus  was 
not  there ;  he  had  not  the  courage  to  be  pres- 
ent at  the  punishment.  Margaret,  who  was  at 
St.  Germain,  could  almost  see  the  flames  of  the 
burning  pile  from  the  terrace  of  the  chateau. 

When  the  clock  struck  twelve  the  escort 
began  to  move.  At  its  head  was  the  grand 
penitentiary  Merlin,  then  followed  the  archers 
and  bowmen,  and  after  them  the  officers  of 
justice  and  more  armed  men.  In  the  middle 
of  the  escort  was  the  prisoner.  A  wretched 
tumbril  was  bearing  him  slowly  to  punishment. 
He  wore  a  cloak  of  velvet,  a  doublet  of  satin 
and  damask,  and  golden  hose,  says  the  Bour- 
geois of  Paris,  who  probably  saw  him  pass. 
The  King  of  heaven  having  invited  him  to  the 
wedding,  Berquin  had  joyfully  put  on  his  finest 
clothes.  "Alas  !"  said  many  as  they  saw  him, 
"  he  is  of  noble  lineage,  a  very  great  scholar, 
expert  and  quick  in  learning,  .  .  .  and  yet  he 
has  gone  out  of  his  mind !" 


LOUIS  BERQUIN.  325 

There  was  nothing  In  the  looks  and  gestures 
of  the  Reformer  which  indicated  the  least  con- 
fusion or  pride.  He  neither  braved  nor  feared 
death :  he  approached  it  with  tranquillity,  meek- 
ness and  hope,  as  if  entering  the  gates  of  heav- 
en. Men  saw  peace  unchangeable  written  on 
his  face.  Montius,  a  friend  of  Erasmus,  who 
had  desired  to  accompany  this  pious  man  even 
to  the  stake,  said  in  the  highest  admiration, 
"There  was  in  him  none  of  that  boldness,  of 
that  hardened  air,  which  men  led  to  death  often 
assume ;  the  calmness  of  a  good  conscience 
was  visible  in  every  feature." — "  He  looks," 
said  other  spectators,  "  as  if  he  were  in  God's 
house  meditating  upon  heavenly  things." 

At  last  the  tumbril  had  reached  the  place  of 
punishment,  and  the  escort  halted.  The  chief 
executioner  approached  and  desired  Berquin 
to  alight.  He  did  so,  and  the  crowd  pressed 
more  closely  round  the  ill-omened  spot.  The 
principal  officer  of  the  court,  having  beckoned 
for  silence  with  his  hand,  unrolled  a  parchment 
and  read  the  sentence — "with  a  husky  voice," 
says  the  chronicler.  But  Berquin  was  about  to 
die  for  the  Son  of  God  who  had  died  for  him  ; 
his  heart  did  not  flinch  one  jot ;  he  felt  no  con- 
fusion, and,  wishing  to  make  the  Saviour  who 
supported  him  in  that  hour  of  trial  known  to 
the  poor  people  around  him,  he  uttered  a  few 
Christian  words.     But  the  doctors  of  the  Sor- 


326  MARTYRS  OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

bonne  were  watching  all  his  movements,  and 
had  even  posted  about  a  certain  number  of 
their  creatures  in  order  to  make  a  noise  if  they 
thought  it  was  necessary.  Alarmed  at  hearing 
the  soft  voice  of  the  evangelist,  and  fearing  lest 
the  people  should  be  touched  by  his  words, 
these  "  sycophants "  hastily  gave  the  signal. 
Their  agents  immediately  began  to  shout,  the 
soldiers  clashed  their  arms,  "  and  so  great  was 
the  uproar  that  the  voice  of  the  holy  martyr 
was  not  heard  in  the  extremity  of  death." 
When  Berquin  found  that  these  clamors  drown- 
ed his  voice,  he  held  his  peace.  A  Franciscan 
friar  who  had  accompanied  him  from  the  prison, 
eaeer  to  extort  from  him  one  word  of  recanta- 
tion,  redoubled  his  importunities  at  this  last  mo- 
ment, but  the  martyr  remained  firm.  At  length 
the  monk  was  silent  and  the  executioner  drew 
near.  Berquin  meekly  stretched  out  his  head  ; 
the  hangman  passed  the  cord  round  his  neck 
and  strangled  him. 

There  was  a  pause  of  solemn  silence,  but  not 
for  long.  It  was  broken  by  the  doctors  of  the 
Sorbonne  and  the  monks,  who  hastily  went  up 
and  contemplated  the  lifeless  body  of  their  vic- 
tim. No  one  cried  "Jesus!  Jesus!" — a  cry  of 
mercy  heard  even  at  the  execution  of  a  parri- 
cide. The  most  virtuous  man  in  France  was 
treated  worse  than  a  murderer.  One  person, 
however,  standing  near  the  stake,  showed  some 


LOUIS  BERQUIN.  32/ 

emotion,  and,  strange  to  say,  it  was  the  grand 
penitentiary  Merlin.  "Truly,"  he  said,  ''so 
good  a  Christian  has  not  died  these  hundred 
years  and  more."  The  dead  body  was  thrown 
into  the  flames,  which  mounted  up  and  devour- 
ed those  limbs  once  so  vigorous  and  now  so 
pale  and  lifeless.  A  few  men,  led  away  by 
passion,  looked  on  with  joy  at  the  progress  of 
the  fire,  which  soon  consumed  the  precious  re- 
mains of  him  who  should  have  been  the  Re- 
former of  France.  They  imagined  they  saw 
heresy  burnt  out,  and  when  the  body  was  en- 
tirely destroyed  they  thought  that  the  Reform- 
ation was  destroyed  with  it,  and  that  not  a  frag- 
ment of  it  remained.  But  all  the  spectators 
were  not  so  cruel.  They  gazed  upon  the  burn- 
ing pile  with  sorrow  and  with  love.  The  Chris- 
tians who  had  looked  upon  Berquin  as  the  fu- 
ture Reformer  of  France  were  overwhelmed 
with  anguish  when  they  saw  the  hero  in  whom 
they  had  hoped  reduced  to  a  handful  of  dust. 
The  temper  of  the  people  seemed  changed,  and 
tears  were  seen  to  flow  down  many  a  face.  In 
order  to  calm  this  emotion  certain  rumors  were 
set  afloat.  A  man  stepped  out  of  the  crowd, 
and  going  up  to  the  Franciscan  confessor,  ask- 
ed him,  "  Did  Berquin  acknowledge  his  error  ?" — 
**  Yes,  certainly,"  answered  the  monk,  "and  I 
doubt  not  that  his  soul  departed  in  peace." 
This  man  was  Montius ;  he  wrote  and  told  the 


328  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

anecdote  to  Erasmus.  ''  I  do  not  believe  a  word 
of  it,"  answered  the  latter.  "It  is  the  usual 
story  which  those  people  invent  after  the  death 
of  their  victims,  in  order  to  appease  the  anger 
of  the  people." 

Some  such  stratagems  were  necessary,  for 
the  general  agitation  was  increasing.  Ber- 
quin's  innocence,  stamped  on  his  features  and 
on  all  his  words,  struck  those  who  saw  him 
die,  and  they  were  beginning  to  murmur.  The 
monks  noticed  this,  and  had  prepared  them- 
selves beforehand  in  case  the  indignation  of 
the  people  should  break  out.  They  penetra- 
ted into  the  thickest  of  the  crowd,  making 
presents  to  the  children  and  to  the  common 
people,  and,  having  worked  them  up,  they 
sent  them  off  in  every  direction.  The  im- 
pressionable crowd  spread  over  the  Greve 
and  through  the  neighboring  streets,  shouting 
out  that  Berquin  was  a  heretic.  Yet  here 
and  there  men  gathered  in  litde  groups,  talk- 
ing of  the  excellent  man  who  had  been  sacri- 

o 

ficed  to  the  passion  of  the  theological  faculty. 
*'  Alas  !"  said  some  with  tears  in  their  eyes, 
"  there  never  was  a  more  virtuous  man."  Many 
were  astonished  that  a  nobleman  who  held  a 
high  place  in  the  king's  affections  should  be 
strangled  like  a  criminal.  "Alas!"  rejoined 
others  indignandy,  "what  caused  his  ruin  was 
the  liberty  which    animated   him,   which   is  al- 


LOUIS  BERQUIN.  329 

ways  the  faithful  companion  of  a  good  con- 
science." Others  of  more  spirit  exclaimed, 
"  Condemn,  quarter,  crucify,  burn,  behead, — 
that  is  what  pirates  and  tyrants  can  do  ;  but 
God  is  the  only  just  Judge,  and  blessed  is  the 
man  whom  he  pardoneth  !"  The  more  pious 
looked  for  consolation  to  the  future.  "  It  is 
only  through  the  cross,"  they  said,  "  that  Christ 
will  triumph  in  this  kingdom."  The  crowd 
dispersed. 

The  news  of  this  tragedy  soon  spread  through 
France,  everywhere  causing  the  deepest  sorrow. 
B^rquin  was  not  the  only  person  struck  down  ; 
other  Christians  also  suffered  the  last  punish- 
ment. Philip  Huaut  was  burnt  alive,  after  hav- 
ing his  tongue  cut  out,  and  Francis  Desus  had 
both  hand  and  head  cut  off  The  story  of  these 
deaths,  especially  that  of  Berquin,  was  told  in 
the  shops  of  the  workmen  and  in  the  cottages 
of  the  peasants.  Many  were  terrified  at  it,  but 
more  than  one  evangelical  Christian,  when  he 
heard  the  tale  at  his  own  fireside,  raised  his 
head  and  cast  a  look  toward  heaven,  express- 
ive of  his  joy  at  having  a  Redeemer  and  a 
Father  s  house  beyond  the  sky.  "  We  too  are 
ready,"  said  these  men  and  women  of  the  Ref- 
ormation to  one  another ;  "  we  are  ready  to 
meet  death  cheerfully,  setting  our  eyes  on  the 
life  that  is  to  come." 

One  of  these  Christian  souls,  who  had  known 


330  MARTYRS    OF  THE   REFORMATION. 

Berquin  best  and  who  shed  most  tears  over 
him,  was  the  queen  of  Navarre.  Distressed 
and  alarmed  by  his  death  and  by  the  deaths  of 
the  Christians  sacrificed  in  other  places  for  the 
gospel,  she  prayed  fervently  to  God  to  come  to 
the  help  of  his  people.  She  called  to  mind 
these  words  of  the  gospel :  "  Shall  not  God 
avenge  his  own  elect,  which  cry  day  and  night 
unto  him  ?"  A  stranger  to  all  hatred,  free  from 
every  evil  desire  of  revenge,  she  called  to  the 
Lord's  remembrance  how  dear  the  safety  of 
his  children  is  to  him,  and  implored  his  protec- 
tion for  them : 

"  O  Lord  our  God,  arise, 
Chastise  thy  enemies 

Thy  saints  who  slay. 
Death,  which  to  heathen  men 
Is  full  of  grief  and  pain, 
To  all  who  in  heaven  shall  reign 
With  thee  is  dear. 

*'  They  through  the  gloomy  vale 
Walk  firm,  and  do  not  quail, 

To  rest  with  thee. 
Such  death  is  happiness, 
Leading  to  that  glad  place 
Where  in  eternal  bliss 

Thy  sons  abide. 

*•  Stretch  out  thy  hand,  O  Lord, 
Help  those  who  trust  thy  word, 
And  give  for  sole  reward 

This  death  of  joy. 
O  Lord  our  God,  arise, 
Chastise  thy  enemies 
Thy  saints  who  slay." 


LOUIS  BERQUIN.  33  I 

This  little  poem  by  the  queen  of  Navarre,  which 
contains  several  other  verses,  was  the  martyr's 
hymn  in  the  sixteenth  century.  Nothing  shows 
more  clearly  that  she  was  heart  and  soul  with 
the  evangelicals. 

Terror  reigned  among  the  Reformed  Chris- 
tians for  some  time  after  Berquin's  martyrdom. 
They  endured  reproach,  without  putting  them- 
selves forward ;  they  did  not  wish  to  irritate 
their  enemies,  and  m^y  of  them  retired  to  the 
desert — that  is,  to  some  unknown  hiding-place. 
It  was  during  this  period  of  sorrow  and  alarm, 
when  the  adversaries  imagined  that  by  getting 
rid  of  Berquin  they  had  got  rid  of  the  Reform- 
ation as  well,  and  when  the  remains  of  the  no- 
ble martyr  were  hardly  scattered  to  the  winds 
of  heaven,  that  Calvin  once  more  took  up  his 
abode  in  Paris,  not  far  from  the  spot  where  his 
friend  had  been  burnt.  Rome  thought  she  had 
put  the  Reformer  to  death,  but  he  was  about  to 
rise  again  from  his  ashes,  more  spiritual,  more 
clear  and  more  powerful,  to  labor  at  the  ren- 
ovation of  society  and  the  salvation  of  man- 
kind. 


332  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

XXIV. 
JEAN  DE  CATURCE, 

A.  D.  1531-32- 

The  licentiate  Jean  de  Caturce,  a  professor 
of  laws  in  the  University  of  Toulouse,  and  a 
native  of  Limoux,  having  learnt  Greek,  pro- 
cured a  New  Testament  and  studied  it.  Being 
a  man  of  large  understanding,  of  facile  elo- 
quence, and,  above  all,  of  a  thoughtful  soul, 
he  found  Christ  the  Saviour,  Christ  the  Lord, 
Christ  the  life  eternal,  and  adored  him.  Ere 
long  Christ  transformed  him,  and  he  became  a 
new  man.  Then  the  Pandects  lost  their  charm, 
and  he  discovered  in  the  Holy  Scriptures  a 
divine  life  and  light  which  enraptured  him.  He 
meditated  on  them  day  and  night.  He  was 
consumed  by  an  ardent  desire  to  visit  his  birth- 
place and  preach  the  Saviour  whom  he  loved 
and  who  dwelt  in  his  heart.  Accordingly,  he 
set  out  for  Limoux,  which  is  not  far  from  Tou- 
louse, and  on  All  Saints'  Day,  1531,  delivered 
"an  exhortation"  there.  He  resolved  to  return 
at  the  Epiphany,  for  every  year  on  that  day 
there  was  a  great  concourse  of  people  for  the 
festival,  and  he  wished  to  take  advantage  of  it 
by  openly  proclaiming  Jesus  Christ. 

Everything  had  been  prepared  for  the  festi- 
val.    On  the  eve  of  Epiphany  there  was  usu- 


JEAN  DE    CAT  URGE.  333 

ally  a  grand  supper,  at  which,  according  to  cus- 
tom, the  king  of  the  feast  was  proclaimed,  after 
which  there  were  shouting  and  joking,  singing 
and  dancing.  Caturce  was  determined  to  take 
part  in  the  festival,  but  in  such  a  way  that  it 
should  not  pass  off  in  the  usual  manner.  When 
the  services  of  the  day  in  honor  of  the  three 
kings  of  the  East  were  over  the  company  sat 
down  to  table  :  they  drank  the  wine  of  the  South, 
and  at  last  the  cake  was  brought  in.  One  of 
the  guests  found  the  bean,  the  gayety  increased, 
and  they  were  about  to  celebrate  the  new  roy- 
alty by  the  ordinary  toast,  ''The  king  drinks!" 
when  Caturce  stood  up.  "  There  is  only  one 
King,"  he  said,  "and  Jesus  Christ  is  he.  It  is 
not  enough  for  his  name  to  flit  through  our 
brains ;  he  must  dwell  in  our  hearts.  He  who 
has  Christ  in  him  wants  for  nothinof.  Instead, 
then,  of  shouting,  'The  king  drinks !'  let  us  say 
this  night,  '  May  Christ,  the  true  King,  reign  in 
all  our  hearts  !'  " 

The  professor  of  Toulouse  was  much  esteem- 
ed in  his  native  town,  and  many  of  his  acquaint- 
ances already  loved  the  gospel.  The  lips  that 
were  ready  to  shout  "The  king  drinks!"  were 
dumb,  and  many  sympathized,  at  least  by  their 
silence,  with  the  new  "toast"  which  he  pro- 
posed to  them.  Caturce  continued :  "  My 
friends,  I  propose  that  after  supper,  instead 
of  loose   talk,   dances  and   revelry,   each  of  us 


534  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

shall  bring  forward  In  his  turn  one  passage  of 
Holy  Scripture."  The  proposal  was  accepted, 
and  the  noisy  supper  was  changed  into  an  or- 
derly Christian  assembly.  First,  one  man  re- 
peated some  passage  that  had  struck  him,  then 
another  did  the  same ;  but  Caturce,  says  the 
chronicler,  "  entered  deeper  Into  the  matter 
than  the  rest  of  the  company,"  contending  that 
Jesus  Christ  ought  to  sit  on  the  throne  of  our 
hearts.  The  professor  returned  to  the  uni- 
versity. 

This  Twelfth-Night  supper  produced  so  great 
a  sensation  that  a  report  was  made  of  It  at  Tou- 
louse. The  officers  of  justice  apprehended  the 
licentiate  In  the  midst  of  his  books  and  his  les- 
sons, and  brought  him  before  the  court.  "  Your 
worships,"  he  said,  "  I  am  willing  to  maintain 
what  I  have  at  heart,  but  let  my  opponents  be 
learned  men  with  their  books,  who  will  prove 
what  they  advance.  I  should  wish  each  point 
to  be  decided  without  wandering  talk."  The 
discussion  began,  but  the  most  learned  theolo- 
gians were  opposed  to  him  In  vain,  for  the 
licentiate,  who  had  the  divine  w^ord  with  him, 
answered  "  promptly,  pertinently  and  with  much 
power,  quoting  immediately  the  passages  of 
Scripture  which  best  served  his  purpose,"  says 
the  chronicle.  The  doctors  were  silenced,  and 
the  professor  was  taken  back  to  prison. 

The  judges  were  greatly  embarrassed.     One 


JEAN  DE    CATURCE.  335 

of  them  visited  the  heretic  in  his  dungeon,  to 
see  if  he  could  not  be  shaken.  "  Master  Ca- 
turce,"  said  he,  "  we  offer  to  set  you  at  full  lib- 
erty on  condition  that  you  will  first  retract  only 
three  points  in  a  lecture  which  you  will  give  in 
the  schools."  The  chronicler  does  not  tell  us 
what  these  three  points  were.  The  licentiate's 
friends  entreated  him  to  consent,  and  for  a  mo- 
ment he  hesitated,  only  to  regain  his  firmness 
immediately  after.  "  It  is  a  snare  of  the  Evil 
One,"  he  replied.  Notwithstanding  this,  his 
friends  laid  a  form  of  recantation  before  him, 
and  when  he  had  rejected  it  they  brought  him 
another  still  more  skillfully  drawn  up.  But 
"  the  Lord  strengthened  him,  so  that  he  thrust 
all  these  papers  away  from  him."  His  friends 
withdrew  in  dismay.  He  was  declared  a  her- 
etic, condemned  to  be  burnt  alive,  and  taken  to 
the  square  of  St.  Etienne. 

Here  an  immense  crowd  had  assembled,  es- 
pecially of  students  of  the  university,  who  were 
anxious  to  witness  the  degradation  of  so  es- 
teemed  a  professor.  The  "  mystery "  lasted 
three  hours,  and  they  were  three  hours  of 
triumph  for  the  word  of  God.  Never  had 
Caturce  spoken  with  greater  freedom.  In  an- 
swer to  everything  that  was  said  he  brought 
some  passage  of  Scripture  "  very  pertinent 
to  reprove  the  stupidity  of  his  judges  before 
the  scholars."    His  academical  robes  were  taken 


33^         MARTYRS  OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

off,  the  costume  of  a  merry-andrew  was  put  on 
him,  and  then  another  scene  began. 

A  Dominican  monk,  wearing  a  white  robe 
and  scapulary,  with  a  black  cloak  and  pointed 
cap,  made  his  way  through  the  crowd  and  as- 
cended a  little  wooden  pulpit  which  had  been 
set  up  in  the  middle  of  the  square.  This  by 
no  means  learned  individual  assumed  an  im- 
portant air,  for  he  had  been  commissioned  to 
deliver  what  was  called  "  the  sermon  of  the 
Catholic  faith."  In  a  voice  that  was  heard 
all  over  the  square  he  read  his  text :  "  The 
Spirit  speaketh  expressly,  that  in  the  latter 
times  some  shall  depart  from  the  faith,  giving 
heed  to  seducing  spirits  and  doctrines  of  devils." 
The  monks  were  delighted  with  a  text  which 
appeared  so  suitable;  but  Caturce,  who  almost 
knew  his  Testament  by  heart,  perceiving  that,  ac- 
cording to  their  custom  of  distorting  Scripture, 
he  had  only  taken  a  fragment  (lophi)  of  the  pas- 
sage, cried  out  with  a  clear  voice,  "  Read  on." 
The  Dominican,  who  felt  alarmed,  stopped  short, 
upon  which  Caturce  himself  completed  the  pas- 
sage :  *'  Forbidding  to  marry,  and  commanding 
to  abstain  from  meats,  which  God  hath  created 
to  be  received  with  thanksgiving  of  them  which 
believe."  The  monks  were  confounded  ;  the 
students  and  other  friends  of  the  licentiate 
smiled.  "  We  know  them,"  continued  the  ener- 
getic professor,  "  these  deceivers  of  the  people, 


JEAN  DE    CATURCE.  337 

who,  Instead  of  the  doctrine  of  faith,  feed  them 
with  trash.  In  God's  service  there  is  no  ques- 
tion of  fish  or  of  flesh,  of  black  or  of  gray,  of 
Wednesday  or  Friday.  ...  It  is  nothing  but 
fooHsh  superstition  which  requires  cehbacy  and 
abstaining  from  meats.  Such  are  not  the  com- 
mandments of  God."  The  Dominican  in  his 
pulpit  listened  with  astonishment ;  the  prisoner 
was  preaching  In  the  midst  of  the  officers  of 
justice,  and  the  students  heard  him  "with  great 
favor."  The  poor  Dominican,  ashamed  of  his 
folly,  left  his  sermon  unpreached. 

After  this  the  martyr  was  led  back  to  the 
court,  where  sentence  of  death  was  pronounced 
upon  him.  Caturce  surveyed  his  judges  with 
indignation,  and  as  he  left  the  tribunal  exclaim- 
ed in  Latin,  "  Thou  seat  of  iniquity!  thou  court 
of  Injustice  !"  He  was  now  led  to  the  scaffold, 
and  at  the  stake  continued  exhorting  the  peo- 
ple to  know  Jesus  Christ.  "  It  Is  Impossible  to 
calculate  the  great  fruit  wrought  by  his  death," 
says  the  chronicle,  "  especially  among  the  stu- 
dents then  at  the  University  of  Toulouse" — 
that  is  to  say,  In  the  year  1532. 
22 


33^  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

XXV.. 
LAURENT  (ALEXANDER), 

A.  D.  1533-34. 

The  friar  De  la  Croix,  a  Dominican  monk, 
called  also  Father  Laurent,  having  abandoned 
Paris,  his  convent,  his  cowl  and  his  monkish 
title,  had  reached  Geneva  under  the  name  of 
Alexander  Canus.  Cordially  welcomed  by  Fa- 
rel  and  Froment,  he  had  been  instructed  by  their 
care  in  the  knowledge  of  the  truth.  His  trans- 
formation had  been  complete.  Christ  had  be- 
come to  him  "  the  Sun  of  righteousness  ;  he 
had  a  burning  zeal  to  know  him  and  great 
boldness  in  confessing  him.  Incontinent,  he 
showed  himself  resolute,  and  resisted  all  gain- 
sayers."  Accordingly,  the  Geneva  magistracy, 
which  was  under  the  influence  of  the  priests, 
had  condemned  him  to  death  as  a  heretic ; 
the  sentence  had,  however,  been  commuted, 
"  for  fear  of  the  king  of  France,"  who  would 
not  suffer  a  Frenchman,  even  if  heretical,  to 
be  maltreated,  and  Alexander  was  simply  turn- 
ed out  of  the  city.  When  on  the  highroad  be- 
yond the  gates,  and  near  the  mint,  he  stopped 
and  preached  to  the  people  who  had  followed 
him.  Such  was  the  power  of  his  language 
that  It  Inspired  respect  in  all  around  him. 
"  Nobody  could  stop  him,''  says  Froment,  "  so 


LAURENT  {ALEXANDER).  339 

Strongly  did  his  zeal  impel  him  to  win  people 
to  the  Lord." 

Alexander  first  went  to  Berne  with  Fro- 
ment,  and  then,  retracing  his  steps,  serious- 
ly reflected  whether  he  ought  not  to  return 
into  France.  He  did  not  deceive  himself: 
persecution,  imprisonment,  death,  awaited  him 
there.  Then  ought  he  not  rather,  like  so  many 
others,  preach  the  gospel  in  Switzerland  ?  But 
France  had  so  much  need  of  the  light  and 
grace  of  God;  should  he  abandon  her?  To 
preach  Christ  to  his  countrymen,  Alexander 
was  ready  to  bear  all  manner  of  evil,  and 
even  death.  One  single  passion  swallowed  up 
all  others :  "  O  my  Saviour !  thou  hast  given 
thy  life  for  me ;  I  desire  to  give  mine  for 
thee." 

He  crossed  the  frontier,  and  learning  that 
Bresse  and  Magonnais  (Saone-et-Loire),  where 
Michael  d'Aranda  had  preached  Christ  in  1524, 
were  without  evangelists,  he  began  to  proclaim 
the  forgiveness  of  the  gospel  to  the  simple  and 
warm-hearted  people  of  that  district,  among 
whom  fanaticism  had  so  many  adherents.  He 
did  not  mind  this :  wandering  along  the  banks 
of  the  Bienne,  the  Ain,  the  Seille  and  the  Saone, 
he  entered  the  cottages  of  the  poor  peasants 
and  courageously  scattered  the  seed  of  the  gos- 
pel. A  rumor  of  his  doings  reached  Lyons, 
where  certain  pious  goldsmiths,  always  ready  to 


340  MARTYRS    OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

make  sacrifices  for  their  faith,  invited  Alexander 
to  come  and  preach  in  their  city. 

It  was  a  wider  field  than  the  plains  of  Bresse. 
Alexander  departed,  arrived  at  Lyons  and  en- 
tered the  goldsmiths'  shops.  He  conversed 
with  them,  and  made  the  acquaintance  of  sev- 
eral poor  men  of  Lyons  who  were  rich  in  faith ; 
they  edified  one  another,  but  this  did  not  satisfy 
him.  The  living  faith  by  which  he  was  anima- 
ted gave  him  an  indefatigable  activity.  He  was 
prompt  in  his  decisions,  full  of  spirit  in  his  ad- 
dresses, ingenious  in  his  plans.  He  began  to 
preach  from  house  to  house;  next  "he  got  a 
number  of  people  together  here  and  there  and 
preached  before  them,  to  the  great  advancement 
of  the  word."  Opposition  soon  began  to  show 
itself,  and  Alexander  exclaimed,  "  Oh  that  Lyons 
were  a  free  city  like  Geneva !"  Those  who  de- 
sired to  hear  the  word  grew  more  thirsty  every 
day ;  they  went  to  Alexander  and  conversed 
with  him ;  they  dragged  him  to  their  houses, 
but  the  evangelist  could  not  supply  all  their 
wants.  He  wrote  to  Farel,  asking  for  help 
from  Geneva,  but  none  came ;  the  persecution 
was  believed  to  be  so  fierce  at  Lyons  that  no- 
body dared  expose  himself  to  it.  Alexander 
continued,  therefore,  to  preach  alone,  some- 
times in  by-streets  and  sometimes  in  an  upper 
chamber.  The  priests  and  their  creatures,  al- 
ways on  the  watch,  endeavored  to  seize  him, 


LAURENT  {ALEXANDER).  34I 

but  the  evangelist  had  hardly  finished  his  ser- 
mon when  the  faithful,  who  loved  him  devoted- 
ly, surrounded  him,  carried  him  away  and  con- 
ducted him  to  some  hiding-place.  But  Alex- 
ander did  not  remain  there  long :  wistfully  put- 
ting out  his  head,  and  looking  round  the  house 
to  see  that  there  was  no  one  on  the  watch,  he 
came  forth  to  go  and  preach  at  the  other  ex- 
tremity of  the  city.  He  had  hardly  finished 
when  he  was  carried  away  again,  and  the  be- 
lievers took  him  to  some  new  retreat,  "  hiding 
him  from  one  house  to  another,"  says  the  chron- 
icler, "  so  that  he  could  not  be  found."  The 
evangelist  was  everywhere  and  nowhere.  When 
the  priests  were  looking  after  him  in  some  sub- 
urb in  the  south,  he  was  preaching  in  the  north 
on  the  heights  which  overlook  the  city.  He  put 
himself  boldly  in  the  van,  he  proclaimed  the  gos- 
pel loudly,  and  yet  he  was  invisible. 

Alexander  did  more  than  this :  he  even  visit- 
ed the  prisons.  He  heard  one  day  that  two 
men,  well  known  in  Geneva,  who  had  come  to 
Lyons  on  business,  had  been  thrown  into  the 
bishop's  dungeons  on  the  information  of  the 
Genevan  priests :  they  were  the  energetic  Bau- 
dichon  de  la  Maison  Neuve  and  his  friend  Co- 
logny.  The  gates  opened  for  Alexander:  he 
entered,  and  that  mysterious  evangelist,  who 
baffled  the  police  of  Lyons,  was  inside  the 
episcopal   prison.     If   one   of   the   agents   who 


3-42  MARTYRS   OF  THE   REFORMATION. 

are  In  search  of  him  should  recognize  him,  the 
gates  will  never  open  again  for  him.  But 
Alexander  felt  no  uneasiness ;  he  spoke  to 
the  two  Genevans  and  exhorted  them ;  he  even 
went  and  consoled  other  brethren  imprisoned 
for  the  gospel,  and  then  left  the  dungeons,  no 
man  laying  a  hand  on  him.  The  priests  and 
their  agents,  burstinor  with  vexation  at  seeinor 
the  futility  of  all  their  efforts,  met  and  lamented 
with  one  another.  ''There  is  a  Lutheran,"  they 
said,  ''who  preaches  and  disturbs  the  people, 
collecting  assemblies  here  and  there  in  the  city, 
whom  we  must  catch,  for  he  will  spoil  all  the 
world,  as  everybody  is  running  after  him ;  and 
yet  we  cannot  find  him  or  know  who  he  is." 
They  increased  their  exertions,  but  all  was  use- 
less. Never  had  preacher  in  so  extraordinary 
a  manner  escaped  so  many  snares.  At  last 
they  began  to  say  that  the  unknown  preacher 
must  be  possessed  of  Satanic  powers,  by  means 
of  which  he  passed  invisible  through  the  police 
and  no  one  suspected  his  presence.  .  .  . 

One  day,  a  few  weeks  after  Easter,  a  man 
loaded  with  chains  entered  the  capital ;  he  was 
escorted  by  archers,  all  of  whom  showed  him 
much  respect.  They  took  him  to  the  Concier- 
gerie.  It  was  Alexander  Canus,  known  among 
the  Dominicans  by  the  name  of  Father  Laurent 
de  la  Croix.  At  Lyons,  as  at  Paris,  Easter  had 
been  the  time  appointed  by  the  evangelicals  for 


LAURENT  {ALEXANDER).  343 

boldly  raising  their  banner.  The  goldsmiths 
were  no  longer  satisfied  with  preachings  in 
secret.  Every  preparation  was  made  for  a 
great  assembly  ;  the  locality  was  settled  ;  pious 
Christians  went  through  the  streets  from  house 
to  house  and  gave  notice  of  the  time  and  place. 
Many  were  attracted  by  the  desire  of  hearing 
a  doctrine  that  was  so  much  talked  about,  and 
on  Easter  Day  the  ex-Dominican  preached  be- 
fore a  large  audience.  Was  it  in  a  church,  in 
some  hall  or  in  the  open  air  ?  The  chronicler 
does  not  say.  Alexander  moved  his  hearers 
deeply,  and  it  might  have  been  said  that  Christ 
rose  again  that  Easter  morn  in  Lyons,  where 
he  had  so  long  lain  in  the  sepulchre.  All  were 
not,  however,  equally  friendly ;  some  cast  sin- 
ister glances.  Alexander  was  no  longer  invis- 
ible :  the  spies  in  the  assembly  saw  him,  heard 
him,  studied  his  physiognomy,  took  note  of  his 
blasphemies,  and  hurried  off  to  report  them  to 
their  superiors. 

While  the  police  were  listening  to  the  re- 
ports and  taking  their  measures  there  were 
voices  of  joy  and  deliverance  in  many  a  hum- 
ble dwelling.  A  divine  call  had  been  heard, 
and  many  were  resolved  to  obey  it.  Alexan- 
der, who  had  belonged  to  the  order  of  Preach- 
e7^s,  combined  the  gift  of  eloquence  with  the 
sincerest  piety.  Accordingly,  his  hearers  re- 
quested  him   to   preach  again  the  second  day 


344  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

of  Easter.  The  meeting  took  place  on  Mon- 
day, and  was  more  numerous  than  the  day  be- 
fore. All  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  evangelist, 
all  ears  were  attentive,  all  faces  were  beaming 
with  joy ;  here  and  there,  however,  a  few  coun- 
tenances of  evil  omen  might  be  seen  :  they  were 
the  agents  charged  to  seize  the  mysterious 
preacher.  The  assembly  heard  a  most  touch- 
ing discourse,  but  just  when  Alexander's  friends 
desired,  as  usual,  to  surround  him  and  get  him 
away,  the  officers  of  justice,  more  expeditious 
this  time,  came  forward,  laid  their  hands  upon 
him  and  took  him  to  prison.  He  was  brought 
before  the  tribunal  and  condemned  to  death. 
This  cruel  sentence  distressed  all  the  evangel- 
icals, who  urged  him  to  appeal ;  he  did  appeal, 
which  had  the  effect  of  causing  him  to  be  trans- 
ferred to  Paris.  "  That  was  not  done  without 
great  mystery,"  says  Froment,  "and  without 
the  great  providence  of  God."  People  said 
to  one  another  that  Paul,  having  appealed  to 
the  emperor,  won  over  a  great  nation  at  Rome, 
and  they  asked  whether  Alexander  might  not 
do  the  same  at  Paris.  The  evangelist  depart- 
ed under  the  escort  of  a  captain  and  his  com- 
pany. 

The  captain  was  a  worthy  man :  he  rode  be- 
side Alexander,  and  they  soon  entered  into 
conversation.  The  officer  questioned  him,  and 
the  ex-Dominican   explained  to  him  the  cause 


LAURENT  {ALEXANDER).  345 

of  his  arrest.  The  soldier  listened  with  aston- 
ishment ;  he  took  an  interest  in  the  story,  and 
by  degrees  the  words  of  the  pious  prisoner 
entered  into  his  heart.  He  heard  God's  call 
and  awoke ;  he  experienced  a  few  moments 
of  struggle  and  doubt,  but  ere  long  the  assur- 
ance of  faith  prevailed.  "  The  captain  was 
converted,"  says  Froment,  "while  taking  him 
to  Paris."  Alexander  did  not  stop  at  this :  he 
spoke  to  each  of  the  guards,  and  some  of  them 
also  were  won  over  to  the  gospel.  The  first 
evening  they  halted  at  an  inn,  and  the  pris- 
oner found  means  to  address  a  few  good  words 
to  the  servants  and  the  heads  of  the  household. 
This  was  repeated  every  day.  People  came  to 
see  the  strange  captive ;  they  entered  into  con- 
versation with  him,  and  he  answered  every 
question.  He  employed  in  the  service  of  the 
gospel  all  the  skill  that  he  possessed  in  discus- 
sion. ''  He  was  learned  in  the  doctrine  of  the 
Sophists,"  says  a  contemporary,  "  having  profit- 
ed well  and  studied  long  at  Paris  with  his  com- 
panions [the  Dominicans]."  Now  and  then  the 
people  went  and  fetched  the  priest  or  orator 
of  the  village  to  dispute  with  him,  but  each 
was  easily  reduced  to  silence.  Many  of  the 
hearers  were  enlightened  and  touched,  and 
some  were  converted.  They  said,  as  they  left 
the  inn,  "  Really,  we  have  never  seen  a  man 
answer  and  confound  his  adversaries  better  by 


346  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

Holy  Scripture."  The  crowd  Increased  from 
town  to  town.  At  last  Alexander  arrived  in 
Paris.  *'  Wonderful  thing  !"  remarks  the  chron- 
icler, ''  he  was  more  useful  at  the  inns  and  on 
the  road  than  he  had  ever  been  before." 

This  remarkable  prisoner  was  soon  talked 
of  in  many  quarters  of  Paris.  The  case  was 
a  serious  one.  '*  A  friar,  a  Dominican,  an 
inquisitor,"  said  the  people,  "  has  gone  over 
to  the  Lutherans  and  is  striving  to  make  her- 
etics everywhere."  The  monks  of  his  own  con- 
vent made  the  most  noise.  The  king,  who  de- 
tained Beda  in  prison,  desired  to  preserve  the 
balance  by  giving  some  satisfaction  to  the  Cath- 
olics. He  was  not  uneasy  about  the  German 
Protestants  ;  he  had  observed  closely  the  land- 
grave's ardor,  and  had  no  fear  that  the  fiery 
Philip  would  break  off  the  alliance  for  a  Domin- 
ican monk.  Francis,  therefore,  allowed  matters 
to  take  their  course,  and  Alexander  appeared 
before  a  court  of  Parliament. 

"  Name  your  accomplices,"  said  the  judges  ; 
and  as  he  refused  to  name  his  accomplices, 
who  did  not  exist,  the  president  added,  "  Give 
him  the  boot."  The  executioners  brought  for- 
ward the  boards  and  the  wedges,  with  which 
they  tightly  compressed  the  legs  of  the  evan- 
gelist. His  sufferings  soon  became  so  severe 
that,  hoping  they  had  converted  him,  they 
stopped    the   torture,   and    the   president   once 


LAURENT  {ALEXANDER).  347 

more  called  upon  him  to  name  all  who  like 
himself  had  separated  from  the  Church  of 
Rome ;  but  he  was  not  to  be  shaken,  and  the 
punishment  began  again.  "  He  was  severely 
tortured  several  times,"  says  the  Actes,  *'  to 
great  extremity  of  cruelty."  The  execution- 
ers drove  the  wedges  so  tightly  between  the 
boards  in  which  his  limbs  were  confined  that 
his  left  leg  was  crushed.  Alexander  groaned 
aloud.  '*  O  God  !"  he  exclaimed,  "  there  is 
neither  pity  nor  mercy  in  these  men !  Oh, 
that  I  may  find  both  in  thee  !" — "  Keep  on," 
said  the  head-executioner.  The  unhappy  man, 
who  had  observed  Budaeus  among  the  asses- 
sors, turned  on  him  a  mild  look  of  supplica- 
tion, and  said,  "  Is  there  no  Gamaliel  here  to 
moderate  the  cruelty  they  are  practicing  on 
me?"  The  illustrious  scholar,  an  honest  and 
just  man,  although  irresolute  in  his  proceed- 
ings, kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  martyr,  as- 
tonished at  his  patience.  ''  It  is  enough,"  he 
said;  '''he  has  been  tortured  too  much;  you 
ought  to  be  satisfied."  Budaeus  was  a  person 
of  great  authority ;  his  words  took  effect,  and 
the  extraordinary  gehenna  ceased.  "  The  exe- 
cutioners lifted  up  the  martyr  and  carried  him 
to  his  dungeon  a  cripple." 

It  was  the  custom  to  deliver  sentence  in  the 
absence  of  the  accused,  and  to  inform  him  of 
it  In  the   Conclergerle  through  a  clerk  of  the 


348  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

criminal  office.  The  idea  occurred  of  pronoun- 
cing it  in  Alexander  s  presence ;  perhaps  in  his 
terror  he  might  ask  for  some  alleviation,  and 
by  this  means  they  might  extort  a  confession. 
But  all  was  useless.  The  court  made  a  great 
display,  and  a  crowd  of  spectators  increased 
the  solemnity,  to  no  purpose :  Alexander  Ca- 
nus  of  Evreux  in  Normandy  was  condemned 
to  be  burnt  alive.  A  flash  of  joy  suddenly 
lit  up  his  face.  *'  Truly,"  said  the  spectators, 
"is  he  more  joyful  than  he  was  before." 

The  priests  now  came  forward  to  perform 
the  sacerdotal  degradation.  "  If  you  utter  a 
word,"  they  told  him,  "  you  will  have  your 
tongue  cut  out."  "  The  practice  of  cutting 
off  the  tongue,"  adds  the  historian,  "  began 
that  year."  The  priests  took  off  his  sacerdo- 
tal dress,  shaved  his  head  and  went  through 
all  the  usual  mysteries.  During  this  ceremony 
Alexander  uttered  not  a  word  ;  only  at  one 
of  the  absurdities  of  the  priests  he  let  a  smile 
escape  him.  They  dressed  him  in  the  robe  de 
fol — a  garment  of  coarse  cloth,  such  as  was 
worn  by  the  poorer  peasantry.  When  the 
pious  martyr  caught  sight  of  it,  he  exclaimed, 
''  O  God,  is  there  any  greater  honor  than  to 
receive  this  day  the  livery  which  thy  Son  re- 
ceived in  the  house  of  Herod?" 

A  cart  generally  used  to  carry  mud  or  dust 
was  brought  to  the  front  of  the  building.    Some 


LAURENT  {ALEXANDER).  349 

Dominicans,  his  former  brethren,  got  into  it 
along  with  the  humble  Christian,  and  all  pro- 
ceeded toward  the  Place  Maubert.  As  the 
cart  moved  but  slowly,  Alexander,  standing 
up,  leant  over  toward  the  people  and  "  scat- 
tered the  seed  of  the  gospel  with  both  hands." 
Many  persons,  moved  even  to  tears,  exclaim- 
ed that  they  were  putting  him  to  death  wrong- 
fully, but  the  Dominicans  pulled  him  by  his 
gown  and  annoyed  him  in  every  way.  At 
first  he  paid  no  attention  to  this,  but  when 
one  of  the  monks  said  to  him  coarsely,  "  Eith- 
er recant  or  hold  your  tongue,"  Alexander 
turned  round  and  said  to  him  with  firmness, 
"  I  will  not  renounce  Jesus  Christ.  Depart 
from  me,  ye  deceivers  of  the  people  !" 

At  last  they  reached  the  front  of  the  scaffold. 
While  the  executioners  were  making  the  final 
preparations,  Alexander,  observing  some  lords 
and  ladies  in  the  crowd  with  common  people, 
monks  and  several  of  his  friends,  asked  per- 
mission to  address  a  few  words  to  them.  An 
ecclesiastical  dignitary,  a  chanter  of  the  Sainte 
Chapelle,  carrying  a  long  staff,  presided  over  the 
clerical  part  of  the  ceremony,  and  he  gave  his 
consent.  Then,  seized  with  a  holy  enthusiasm, 
Alexander  confessed,  "  with  great  vehemence 
and  vivacity  of  mind,"  the  Saviour  whom  he 
loved  so  much  and  for  whom  he  was  condemn- 
ed to  die.     "Yes,"  he  exclaimed,  "Jesus,  our 


350  MARTYRS   OF   THE    REFORMATION. 

only  Redeemer,  suffered  death  to  ransom  us 
to  God  his  Father.  I  have  said  it,  and  I  say 
it  again.  O  ye  Christians  who  stand  around 
me,  pray  to  God  that,  as  his  Son  Jesus  Christ 
died  for-me,  he  will  give  me  grace  to  die  now 
for  him." 

Having  thus  spoken,  he  said  to  the  execu- 
tioner, "  Proceed."  The  officers  of  justice  ap- 
proached ;  they  bound  him  to  the  pile  and  set 
it  on  fire.  The  wood  crackled,  the  flames  rose, 
and  Alexander,  his  eyes  upraised  to  heaven, 
exclaimed,  "  O  Jesus  Christ,  have  pity  on  me  ! 
O  Saviour,  receive  my  soul !'  He  saw  the  glo- 
ry of  God ;  by  faith  he  discerned  Jesus  in  heav- 
en, who  received  him  into  his  kingdom.  "  My 
Redeemer !"  he  repeated,  "  O  my  Redeemer !" 
At  last  his  voice  was  silent.  The  people  wept ; 
the  executioners  said  to  one  another,  "  What  a 
strange  criminal !"  and  even  the  monks  asked, 
"  If  this  man  is  not  saved,  who  will  be  ?"  Many 
beat  their  breasts  and  said,  "A  great  wrong  has 
been  done  to  that  man."  And  as  the  specta- 
tors separated  they  went  away  thinking,  "  It  is 
wonderful  how  these  people  suffer  themselves 
to  be  burnt  in  defence  of  their  faith." 


JOHN  VAN  BANKER.  351 

XXVI. 
JOHN  VAN  BAKKER, 

A.  D.  1523-25. 

At  Woerden,  a  town  in  the  Netherlands  be- 
tween Leyden  and  Utrecht,  lived  a  simple  man, 
warden  of  the  collegiate  church,  an  office  which 
gave  him  a  certain  position.  He  was  well  in- 
formed, was  of  a  religious  spirit,  liked  his  office 
and  discharged  its  duties  zealously.  But  his 
warmest  affection  was  fixed  on  the  person  of 
his  son  John.  John  van  Bakker  (called  in  Latin 
Pistorius)  studied  under  Rhodius  at  the  college 
of  Utrecht.  He  made  great  progress  there  in 
literature,  but  he  also  learnt  something  else.  It 
was  at  the  period  of  the  revival  of  the  Chris- 
tian religion.  The  young  man  was  struck  by 
the  glorious  brightness  of  the  truth,  and  a  liv- 
ing light  was  shed  abroad  in  his  heart.  Rho- 
dius was  attached  to  his  young  disciple,  and 
they  were  often  seen  conversing  together  like 
father  and  son.  The  canons  of  Utrecht  took 
offence.  The  two  evangelicals  were  watched, 
attacked,  threatened  and  denounced  as  Luth- 
erans, and  word  had  been  hastily  sent  to  the 
father  that  his  son  was  fallen  into  heresy. 

The  old  churchwarden,  thunderstruck  by  the 
the  news,  trembling  at  the  thought  of  the  dan- 
ger impending  over  his  beloved  son,  at  once 


352  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

recalled  him  to  Woerden.  But  the  very  evil 
which  he  wished  to  avoid  was  by  this  means 
only  increased.  John,  filled  with  ardent  desire 
for  the  propagation  of  the  truth,  let  slip  no 
opportunity  of  proclaiming  the  gospel  to  his 
fellow-citizens.  Attacks  were  renewed ;  the 
alarm  of  the  father  grew  greater.  He  now 
sent  his  son  to  Louvain  to  improve  himself 
in  literature,  and  also  because  this  town  passed 
for  the  stronghold  of  popery.  But  old  ties  of 
hospitality  united  the  father  with  Erasmus,  and 
John  was  therefore  placed  under  the  influential 
patronage  of  this  scholar.  Out  of  deference 
to  the  wishes  of  his  father,  but  sorely  against 
his  own  will,  he  became  a  priest.  He  imme- 
diately availed  himself,  however,  of  this  office 
to  contend  more  effectively  against  the  anti- 
Christian  traditions  and  to  spread  abroad  more 
extensively  the  knowledge  of  Christ.  The  can- 
ons of  Utrecht,  who  had  not  lost  sight  of  him, 
summoned  him  to  appear  before  them.  He  re- 
fused to  do  this,  and  upon  his  refusal  the  pre- 
fect of  Woerden  put  him  in  prison.  But  Philip, 
bishop  of  Utrecht,  was  favorably  disposed  to- 
ward the  gospel,  and  John  regained  his  liberty, 
and  without  delay  betook  himself  to  Witten- 
berg. Here  he  lived  in  intimate  intercourse 
with  Luther  and  Melanchthon,  and  with  many 
pious  young  men  from  all  the  countries  of  Eu- 
rope.    He  thus  became  established  in  the  faith. 


JOHN  VAN  BANKER.  353 

On  his  return  to  Holland  he  taught  evangel- 
ical truth  with  still  more  energy  than  before. 
The  chapter  of  Utrecht,  whose  inquisitorial 
glance  followed  him  everywhere,  now  sen- 
tenced him  to  banishment  for  three  years,  and 
ordered  him  to  go  to  Rome,  that  he  might  give 
himself  up  to  the  penances  required  for  the  ex- 
piation of  his  errors.  But  instead  of  setting  out 
for  Italy  he  began  to  travel  all  over  Holland, 
instructing,  confirming  and  building  up  the 
Christians  scattered  abroad  and  the  churches. 
He  visited  Hoen  and  Gnapheus,  who  were  at 
the  time  prisoners  for  the  gospel's  sake,  and 
consoled  them.  His  father  followed  him  with 
both  joy  and  anxiety  in  his  Christian  wander- 
ings. Although  he  feared  that  John's  faith 
would  bring  down  persecution  upon  him,  he 
nevertheless  felt  attracted  toward  It.  If  the 
sky  looked  threatening,  the  old  man  in  alarm 
would  fain  have  recalled  his  son ;  but  if  no 
cloud  seemed  likely  to  disturb  the  serenity  of 
the  evangelical  day,  the  father  rejoiced  in  the 
piety  of  his  son  and  triumphed  in  his  triumphs. 

We  have  now  reached  the  year  1523.  Hith- 
erto, Bakker  had  outwardly  belonged  to  the 
Church  of  Rome.  He  now  began  to  consider 
whether  he  ougrht  not  to  brlno-  his  outward  ac- 
tlons  into  harmony  with  his  inward  convictions. 
This  harmony  Is  not  always  attained  at  the  first 
step.     Bakker   discontinued    officiating    In    the 

23 


354  MARTYRS    OF   THE    REFORMATION. 

church,  and  renounced  all  profit  and  advantage 
proceeding  from  Rome.  When  he  understood 
that  the  sacerdotal  life  is  opposed  to  the  gospel, 
he  married,  and,  calling  to  mind  the  example  of 
Paul,  who  was  a  tent-maker,  this  lettered  disciple 
of  Rhodius  set  himself  to  earn  his  livelihood  by 
baking  bread,  digging  the  ground  and  other 
manual  labor.  But  at  the  same  time  he  preach- 
ed in  private  houses,  and  welcomed  all  who 
came  to  seek  at  his  hands  consolation  and  in- 
struction. 

A  step  at  this  time  taken  by  Rome  tended  to 
increase  his  zeal.  The  pope,  anxious  to  con- 
solidate his  tottering  see,  invented  a  new  spe- 
cies of  indulgences,  which  were  not  to  be  of- 
fered for  sale  like  those  of  Tetzel,  but  were  to 
be  given  gratuitously  by  the  priests  to  all  per- 
sons who  at  certain  times  and  in  certain  places 
should  come  to  hear  a  mass.  These  indulg- 
ences having  been  preached  in  Woerden,  Bak- 
ker  rose  in  opposition  to  them.  He  unveiled 
the  craft  of  those  who  distributed  them,  boldly 
proclaimed  the  grace  of  Christ,  strengthened  the 
feeble  and  pacified  troubled  consciences.  The 
inhabitants  of  Woerden,  affected  by  such  zeal, 
resorted  in  crowds  to  the  lowly  dwelling  in 
which  they  found  the  peace  of  God,  a  Christian 
woman  who  sympathized  with  all  their  sorrows 
and  endeavored  to  relieve  their  necessities,  and 
a  pious  minister  who  earned  his  living  by  the 


JOHN  VAN  BARKER.  355 

labor  of  his  own  hands.  The  ordinary  priest 
of  the  place,  provoked  by  the  neglect  into 
which  he  had  fallen,  denounced  Bakker,  at  first 
to  the  magistrate,  and  next  to  the  governess  of 
the  Netherlands.  He  made  such  desperate  ef- 
forts that  one  day  in  1525  the  officers  of  justice, 
by  order  of  Margaret,  arrested  Bakker  and 
committed  him  to  prison  at  the  Hague.  The 
poor  father  on  hearing  the  news  was  struck  as 
by  a  thunderbolt.  Bakker,  doomed  to  harsh 
and  solitary  confinement,  perceived  the  danger 
which  hung  over  him.  He  looked  all  round 
and  saw  no  defender  except  the  Holy  Script- 
ures. His  enemies,  who  were  afraid  of  his 
superior  knowledge,  sent  for  theologians  and 
inquisitors  from  Louvain,  and  an  imperial  com- 
mission was  instructed  to  watch  the  proceed- 
ings and  see  that  the  heretic  was  not  spared. 
The  doctors  came  to  an  understanding  about 
the  trial,  and  every  one's  part  was  fixed.  The 
inquisitorial  court  was  formed,  and  the  young 
Christian — he  was  now  twenty-seven  years  of 
age — appeared  before  it.  Cross-pleadings  were 
set  up.  The  following  are  some  of  the  affirma- 
tions and  negations  which  were  then  heard  at 
the  Hague : 

The  Court.  It  is  ordered  that  every  one 
should  submit  to  all  the  decrees  and  traditions 
of  the  Roman  Church. 

Bakker.  There    Is    no    authority    except   the 


35^  MARTYRS  OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

Holy  Scriptures,  and  it  is  from  them  only  that 
1  can  receive  the  doctrine  that  saves. 

The  Court.  Do  you  not  know  that  it  is  the 
Church  itself  which,  by  its  testimony,  gives  to 
the  Holy  Scriptures  their  authority? 

Bakker.  I  want  no  other  testimony  in  favor 
of  the  Scriptures  than  that  of  the  Scriptures 
themselves,  and  that  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  which 
inwardly  convinces  us  of  the  truths  which 
Scripture  teaches. 

The  Court.  Did  not  Christ  say  to  the  apos- 
tles,  "  He  who  heareth  you  heareth  me"  ? 

Bakker.  We  would  assuredly  listen  to  you  if 
you  could  prove  to  us  that  you  are  sent  by  Christ. 

The  Court.  The  priests  are  the  successors  of 
the  apostles. 

Bakker.  All  Christians  born  of  water  and  of 
the  Spirit  are  priests,  and,  although  all  do  not 
publicly  preach,  all  offer  to  God  through  Christ 
spiritual  sacrifices. 

The  Coui't.  Take  care  !  Heretics  are  to  be 
exterminated   with   the   sword. 

Bakker.  The  Church  of  Christ  is  to  make 
use  only  of  meekness  and  the  power  of  the 
word  of   God. 

It  was  not  for  one  day  only,  but  during  many 
days  and  in  long  sessions,  that  the  inquisitors 
plagued  Bakker.  They  charged  him  especially 
with  three  crimes — despising  indulgences,  dis- 
continuing to  say  mass  and  marrying. 


JOHN  VAN  BAKKER.  357 

As  Bakker's  steadfastness  frustrated  all  the 
efforts  of  the  inquisitors,  they  bethought  them- 
selves of  making  him  go  to  confession,  hoping 
thus  to  obtain  some  criminating  admission.  So 
they  had  him  into  a  niche  in  the  wainscoting 
where  the  confessor  received  penitents,  and  a 
priest  questioned  him  minutely  on  all  kinds  of 
subjects.  They  could  only  get  one  answer  from 
him :  "  I  confess  freely  before  God  that  I  am  a 
most  miserable  sinner,  worthy  of  the  curse  and 
of  eternal  death ;  but  at  the  same  time  I  hope, 
and  have  even  a  strong  confidence,  that  for  the 
sake  of  Jesus  Christ  my  Lord  and  my  only  Sa- 
viour I  shall  certainly  obtain  everlasting  bless- 
edness." The  confessor  then  pronounced  him 
altogether  unworthy  of  absolution,  and  he  was 
thrown  into  a  dark  dungeon. 

So  long  as  Philip,  bishop  of  Utrecht,  lived, 
the  canons,  although  they  had  indeed  persecu- 
ted Bakker,  had  not  ventured  to  put  him  to 
death.  This  moderate  bishop,  so  friendly  to 
good  men,  having  died  on  the  7th  of  April, 
1525,  the  chapter  felt  more  at  liberty,  and 
Bakker's  death  was  resolved  on.  The  tidings 
of  his  approaching  execution  spread  alarm 
through  the  little  city,  and  people  of  all  classes 
immediately  hastened  to  him  and  implored  him  to 
make  the  required  recantation.  But  he  refused. 
Calm  and  resolved,  one  care  alone  occupied 
his  thoughts — the  state  of  his  father.     The  old 


358  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

man  had  followed  all  the  phases  of  the  trial.  He 
had  seen  the  steadfastness  of  his  son's  faith  and 
the  supreme  love  which  he  had  for  Jesus  Christ, 
so  that  nothing  in  the  world  could  separate  him 
from  the  Saviour.  This  sight  had  filled  him  with 
joy  and  had  strengthened  his  own  faith.  The 
inquisitors,  who  were  very  anxious  to  induce 
Bakker  to  recant,  thought  that  one  course  was 
still  open  to  them.  They  betook  themselves 
therefore  to  the  old  man,  and  entreated  him  to 
urge  John  to  submit  to  the  pope.  "  My  son," 
he  replied,  "  is  very  dear  indeed  to  me  ;  he  has 
never  caused  me  any  sorrow ;  but  I  am  ready 
to  offer  him  up  a  sacrifice  to  God,  as  in  old  time 
Abraham  offered  up  Isaac." 

It  was  then  announced  to  Bakker  that  the 
hour  of  his  death  was  at  hand.  This  news,  says 
a  chronicler,  filled  him  with  unusual  and  aston- 
ishing joy.  During  the  night  he  read  and  med- 
itated on  the  divine  word.  Then  he  had  a  tran- 
quil sleep.  In  the  morning  (September  15)  they 
led  him  upon  an  elevated  stage,  stripped  him 
of  the  priestly  vestments  which  he  had  been  ob- 
liged to  wear,  put  on  him  a  yellow  coat  and  on 
his  head  a  hat  of  the  same  color.  This  done, 
he  was  led  to  execution.  As  he  passed  by  one 
part  of  the  prison  where  several  Christians 
were  confined  for  the  sake  of  the  faith,  he  was 
affected  and  cried  aloud,  "  Brothers,  I  am  going 
to  suffer  martyrdom.     Be  of  good  courage  like 


JOHN  VAN  BAKKER.  359 

faithful  soldiers  of  Jesus  Christy  and  defend  the 
truths  of  the  gospel  against  all  unrighteous- 
ness." 

The  prisoners  started  when  they  heard  these 
words,  clapped  their  hands,  uttered  cries  of  joy, 
and  then  with  one  voice  struck  up  the  Te  Dezcm, 
They  determined  not  to  cease  singing  until  the 
Christian  hero  should  have  ceased  to  live.  Bak- 
ker,  indeed,  could  not  hear  them,  but  these 
songs,  associated  with  the  thoughts  of  the  mar- 
tyr, ascended  to  the  throne  of  God.  First  they 
sang  the  Magnum  Ce^^tamen ;  then  the  hymn 
beginning  with  the  words,  "  O  beata  beaiorum 
martyrum  solejmiia!'  This  holy  concert  was 
the  prelude  to  the  festival  which  was  to  be  cel- 
ebrated in  heaven. 

The  martyr  went  up  to  the  stake,  took  from 
the  hands  of  the  executioner  the  rope  with 
which  he  was  to  be  strangled  before  being  given 
up  to  the  flames,  and,  passing  it  round  his  neck 
with  his  own  hands,  he  said  with  joy,  *'  O  death  ! 
where  is  thy  sting?"  A  moment  afterward  he 
said,  "  Lord  Jesus,  forgive  them,  and  remember 
me,  O  Son  of  God !"  The  executioner  pulled 
the  rope  and  strangled  him.  Then  the  fire 
consumed  him.  The  great  conflict  was  finish- 
ed, the  solemnity  of  the  martyrdom  was  over. 
Such  was  the  death  of  John  van  Bakker.  His 
father  survived  to  mourn  his  loss. 


360  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

XXVII. 
WENDELMUTHA   KL/ESSEN, 

A. D.  1526-27. 

In  the  town  of  Monnikendam,  on  the  shores 
of  the  Zuyder  Zee,  there  was  Hving  at  this  time 
a  widow  named  Wendelmutha  Klaessen,  who 
had  sorrowed  greatly' for  the  death  of  the  part- 
ner of  her  Hfe,  but  had  also  shed  other  and  still 
more  bitter  tears  over  the  sad  state  of  her  own 
soul.  She  had  found  the  peace  which  Christ 
gives,  and  had  clung  to  the  Saviour  with  a  con- 
stancy and  a  courage  which  some  of  her  friends 
called  obstinacy.  The  purity  of  her  life  cre- 
ated a  sanctifying  influence  around  her,  and 
as  she  openly  avowed  her  full  trust  in  Christ, 
she  was  arrested,  taken  to  the  fortress  of 
Woerden,  and  soon  after  to  the  Hague  to  be 
tried  there. 

The  more  steadfast  her  faith  was,  the  more 
the  priests  set  their  hearts  on  getting  her  to  re- 
nounce it.  Monks  were  incessantly  going  to 
see  her,  and  omitted  no  means  of  shaking  her 
resolution.  They  assailed  her  especially  on  the 
subject  of  transubstantiation,  and  required  her 
to  worship,  as  if  they  were  God,  the  little  round 
consecrated  wafers  of  which  they  made  use  in 
the  mass.  But  Wendelmutha,  certain  that  what 
they  presented  to  her  as  God  was  nothing  more 


WENDELMUTHA   KL^SSEN.  36 1 

than  thin  bread,  replied,  "  I  do  not  adore  them  ; 
I  abhor  them."  The  priests,  provoked  at  see- 
ing her  ding  so  tenaciously  to  her  ideas,  urged 
her  kinsfolk  and  her  friends  to  try  all  means 
of  getting  her  to  retract  her  speeches.  This 
they  did. 

Among  these  friends  was  a  noble  lady  who 
tenderly  loved  Wendelmutha.  These  two  Chris- 
tian women,  although  they  were  as  one  soul,  had 
nevertheless  different  characters.  The  Dutch 
lady  was  full  of  anxiety  and  distress  at  the 
prospect  of  what  awaited  her  friend,  and  said 
to  her  in  the  trouble  of  her  soul,  "  Why  not  be 
silent,  my  dear  Wendelmutha,  and  keep  what 
thou  believest  in  thine  own  heart,  so  that  the 
schemes  of  those  who  want  to  take  away  thy 
life  may  be  baffled?"  Wendelmutha  replied 
with  simple  and  affecting  firmness,  "  Dost  thou 
not  know,  my  sister,  the  meaning  of  these 
words,  'With  the  heart  man  believeth  unto 
rightousness,  and  with  the  7nouth  confession  is 
made  unto  salvation  T' 

Another  day  one  of  her  kinsfolk,  after  hav- 
ing endeavored  in  vain  to  shake  her  resolu- 
tion, said  to  her,  "  You  look  as  if  you  had  no 
fear  of  death.  But  wait  a  little ;  you  have 
not  tasted  it."  She  replied  immediately  with 
firm  hope,  "  I  confess  that  I  have  not  yet  tast- 
ed it,  but  I  also  know  that  I  never  shall  taste 
it;  for  Christ  has  endured  it  for  me,  and  has 


362  MAKTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

positively  said,  '  If  a  man  keep  my  saying  he 
shall  never  see  death.'  " 

Shortly  afterward  Wendelmutha  appeared  be- 
fore the  Dutch  supreme  court  of  justice,  and  an- 
swered that  nothing  should  separate  her  from 
her  Lord  and  her  God.  When  taken  back 
into  prison  the  priest  urged  her  to  confess. 
"  Do  this,"  he  said,  "  while  you  are  still  in  life." 
She  replied,  "  I  am  already  dead,  and  God  is 
my  life.  Jesus  Christ  has  forgiven  me  all  my 
sins,  and  if  I  have  offended  any  one  of  my 
neighbors   I  humbly  beg  him  to   pardon  me." 

On  the  20th  of  November,  1527,  the  officers 
of  justice  conducted  her  to  execution.  They 
had  placed  near  her  a  certain  monk  who  held 
in  his  hand  a  crucifix  and  asked  her  to  kiss  the 
image  in  token  of  veneration.  She  replied,  "  I 
know  not  this  wooden  Saviour  ;  He  whom  I 
know  is  in  heaven  at  the  right  hand  of  God, 
the  Almighty  Saviour."  She  went  modestly 
to  the  stake,  and  when  the  flames  gathered 
round  her  she  peacefully  closed  her  eyes,  bow- 
ed down  her  head  as  If  she  were  falling  asleep, 
and  gave  up  her  soul  to  God  while  the  fire  re- 
duced her  body  to  ashes. 


FA  TRICK  HA  MIL  TON.  363 

XXVIII. 
PATRICK  HAMILTON, 

A.  D.  1527. 

There  was  at  St.  Andrew's  In  Edinburgh  a 
young  man  who  was  already  acquainted  with 
the  great  facts  of  salvation  announced  in  the 
New  Testament,  and  who  was  w^ell  quaHfied  to 
circulate  and  explain  it.  Patrick  Hamilton, 
gifted  with  keen  Intelligence  and  a  Christian 
heart,  knew  how  to  set  forth  in  a  concise  and 
natural  manner  the  truths  of  which  he  was 
convinced.  He  knew  that  there  is  in  the 
Scriptures  a  wisdom  superior  to  the  human 
understanding,  and  that  in  order  to  compre- 
hend them  there  is  need  of  the  Illumination 
of  the  Holy  Spirit.  He  believed  that  with 
the  written  it  is  necessary  to  combine  oral 
teaching,  and  that  as  Testaments  were  come 
from  the  Netherlands,  Scotland  needed  the 
spoken  word  which  should  call  restless  and 
degenerate  souls  to  seek  in  them  the  living 
water  which  springs  up  unto  life  eternal.  God 
was  then  preparing  his  witnesses  in  Scotland, 
and  the  first  was  Patrick  Hamilton.  He  laid 
open  the  New  Testament ;  he  set  forth  the 
facts  and  the  doctrines  contained  in  It ;  he  de- 
fended the  evangelical  principles.  His  father, 
the  foremost  of  Scottish  knlo^hts,  had  not  bro- 


364  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

ken  so  many  lances  in  the  tournament  as  Patrick 
now  broke  in  his  college,  at  the  university,  with 
the  canons  and  with  all  who  set  themselves 
against  the  truth. 

At  the  beginning  of  Lent,  1527,  he  public- 
ly preached  in  the  cathedral  and  elsewhere  the 
doctrines  (heresies,  said  his  sentence)  taught 
by  Martin  Luther.  We  have  no  further  par- 
ticulars of  his  preaching,  but  there  are  suf- 
ficient to  show  us  that  at  this  period  the  peo- 
ple who  gathered  together  in  the  ancient 
churches  of  Scotland  heard  this  faithful  min- 
ister announce  that  "  it  is  not  the  law,  that 
terrible  tyrant,  as  Luther  said,  that  is  to  reign 
in  the  conscience,  but  the  Son  of  God,  the 
King  of  justice  and  of  peace,  who,  like  a 
fruitful  rain,  descends  from  heaven  and  ferti- 
lizes the  most  barren  soil." 

Circumstances  were  by  no  means  favorable 
to  the  Reformation.  Archbishop  Beatoun,  pri- 
mate of  Scotland,  having  fled  from  the  wrath 
of  Earl  Angus  into  rural  concealment,  had  now 
thrown  off  his  shepherd's  dress  and  left  the 
flocks  which  he  was  feeding  in  the  solitary  pas- 
tures of  Bogrian  in  Fifeshire.  The  simple,  rude 
and  isolated  life  of  the  keeper  of  sheep  was  a 
sufficiently  severe  chastisement  for  an  ambi- 
tious, intriguing  and  worldly  spirit ;  day  and 
night,  therefore,  he  was  looking  for  some  means 
of  deliverance.     Although  he  was  then  sleep- 


PATRICK  HAMILTON.  365 

ing  on  the  ground,  he  had  plenty  of  gold  and 
great  estates :  this  wealth,  the  omnipotence  of 
which  he  knew  well,  would  suffice,  said  he  to 
himself,  to  ransom  him  from  the  abject  service 
to  which  a  political  reverse  had  reduced   him. 
Since  the  victory  of  Linlithgow,  Angus  had  ex- 
ercised the  royal  power  without  opposition.     It 
was    needful,  then,  that    Beatoun    should   gain 
over    that    terrible    conqueror.      The    queen- 
mother,  who  had  also  fled  at  first,  having  ven- 
tured two  months  later  to  approach  Edinburgh, 
her  son  had  received  her  and  conducted  her  to 
Holyrood  Palace.     This  encouraged  the   arch- 
bishop.     His    nephew,    David    Beatoun,  abbot 
of  Arbroath,  was  as   clever  and  as   ambitious 
as  his  uncle,  but  he  hated  still  more  passion- 
ately all  who  refused  to  submit  to  the  Romish 
Church.     The  archbishop  entreated  him  to  ne- 
gotiate his  return :  the  party  of  the  nobles  was 
hard  to  win  ;  but  the  abbot,  having  gained  over 
the  provost  of  Edinburgh,  Sir  Archibald  Doug- 
las,  uncle   of  Angus,  the  bargain   was   struck. 
The  archbishop  was  to  pay  two  thousand  Scot- 
tish marks  to  Angus,  one  thousand  to  George 
Douglas,  the  king's  jailer,  one  thousand  to  cruel 
James  Hamilton,  the  assassin  of  Lennox,  and 
to  make  a  present  of  the  abbey  of  Kilwinning 
to  the  earl  of  Arran.     Beatoun,  charmed,  threw 
away  his  crook,  started  for  Edinburgh  and  re- 
sumed his  episcopal  functions  at  St.  Andrews. 


366  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

It  was  some  time  after  the  return  of  Bea- 
toun  that  the  king's  cousin,  Patrick  Hamilton, 
began  to  preach  at  St.  Andrews  the  glad  tid- 
ings of  free  salvation  through  faith  in  Christ. 
Such  doctrines  could  not  be  taught  without 
giving  rise  to  agitation.  The  clergy  took  alarm; 
some  priests  and  monks  went  to  the  castle  and 
prayed  the  archbishop  to  chastise  the  young 
preacher.  Beatoun  ordered  an  inquiry  ;  it  was 
carried  out  very  precisely.  The  persons  with 
whom  Hamilton  had  engaged  in  discussion  were 
heard,  and  some  of  his  hearers  gave  evidence  as 
to  the  matter  of  his  discourses.  He  was  de- 
clared a  heretic.  Beatoun  was  not  cruel ;  he 
would  perhaps  have  been  content  with  seeking 
to  bring  back  by  fatherly  exhortations  the  young 
and  interesting  Hamilton  into  the  paths  of  the 
Church.  But  the  primate  had  by  his  side  some 
fanatical  spirits,  especially  his  nephew  David, 
and  they  redoubled  their  urgency  to  such  a  de- 
gree that  the  archbishop  ordered  Hamilton  to  ap- 
pear before  him  to  give  an  account  of  his  faith. 

The  inquiry  could  not  be  made  without  this 
noble  Christian  hearing  of  it.  He  perceived 
the  fate  that  awaited  him ;  his  friends  perceived 
it  too.  If  he  should  appear  before  the  arch- 
bishop, it  was  all  up  with  him.  Every  one  was 
moved  with  compassion ;  some  of  his  enemies 
even,  touched  by  his  youth,  the  loveliness  of 
his   character  and  his   illustrious   birth,   wished 


PATRICK  HAMILTON.  367 

to  see  him  escape  death.  There  was  no  time 
to  lose,  for  the  order  of  the  archieplscopal  court 
was  already  signed ;  several  conjured  him  to 
fly.  What  should  he  do  ?  All  his  desire  was 
to  show  to  others  the  peace  that  filled  his  own 
soul,  but  at  the  same  time  he  knew  how  much 
was  still  wanting  to  him.  Who  could  better 
enlighten  and  strengthen  him  than  the  Reform- 
ers of  Germany  ?  Who  more  able  to  put  him 
in  a  position  to  return  afterward  to  preach 
Christ  with  power?  He  resolved  to  go.  Two 
of  his  friends,  Hamilton  of  Linlithgow  and  Gil- 
bert Wynram  of  Edinburgh,  determined  to  ac- 
company him.  Preparations  for  their  depart- 
ure were  made  with  the  greatest  possible 
secrecy.  Hamilton  took  with  him  one  servant, 
and  the  three  young  Scotchmen,  finding  their 
way  furtively  to  the  coast,  embarked  on  board 
a  merchant-ship.  It  was  in  the  latter  half  of 
the  month  of  April,  1527.,^., 

This  unlooked-for  escape  greatly  provoked 
those  who  had  set  their  minds  on  taking  the 
life  of  the  evangelist  "  He,  of  evil  mind,  as 
may  be  presumed,  passed  forth  of  the  realm," 
said  the  archbishop's  familiars.  No :  his  inten- 
tion was  to  be  instructed,  to  increase  in  spirit- 
ual life  from  day  to  day.  He  landed  at  the 
beginning  of  May  in  one  of  the  ports  of  the 
Netherlands. 

At  this  time  the  oferm  of  the  Reformation  of 


368  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

Scotland  already  lay  in  his  heart.  His  associa- 
tion with  the  doctors  of  Germany  would  prove 
the  identity  of  this  great  spiritual  movement, 
which  everywhere  was  overthrowing  the  same 
abuses  and  bringing  anew  to  the  surface  the 
same  truths.  In  which  direction  should  the 
young  Christian  hero  of  Scotland  now  turn 
his  footsteps  ?  All  his  ambition  was  to  go 
to  Wittenberg,  to  hear  Luther,  Melanchthon 
and  the  other  Reformers,  but  circumstances 
led  him  to  go  first  to  Marburg.  This  town 
lay  on  his  way,  and  a  renowned  printer,  Hans 
Luft,  was  then  publishing  there  the  works  of 
Tyndale.  In  fact,  on  May  8,  1527,  at  the 
moment  of  Patrick's  arrival  on  the  Continent, 
there  appeared  at  Marburg  the  Parable  of  the 
Wicked  Mammon,  and  seven  months  later  (De- 
cember 11)  Luft  published  The  Veidtable  Obe- 
dience of  a  Christian  Man.  But  Hamilton  flat- 
tered himself  that  he  should  find  at  Marburg 
something  more  than  Tyndale's  writings — Tyn- 
dale himself  Engflish  evanoellcal  works  had 
at  that  time  to  get  printed  in  Germany,  and, 
as  far  as  possible,  under  the  eye  of  the  author. 
The  young  Scotchman  had  hopes,  then,  of  meet- 
ing at  Marburg  the  translator  of  the  New  Tes- 
tament, the  Reformer  of  England,  and  even 
Fryth,  who  might  be  with  him.  One  reason 
more  positive  still  influenced  Hamilton.  He 
was   aware   that   Lambert  d'AvIgnon,   the   one 


PATRICK  HAMILTON.  369 

man  of  all  the  Reformers  whose  views  most 
nearly  approached  those  which  prevailed  after- 
ward in  Scotland,  had  been  called  to  Marburg 
by  the  landgrave.  Philip  of  Hesse  himself 
was  the  most  determined,  the  most  coura- 
geous, of  all  the  Protestant  princes.  How 
many  motives  were  there  inclining  him  to 
stay  in  that  town  !  An  extraordinary  circum- 
stance decided  the  young  Scotchman.  The 
landgrave,  defender  of  piety  and  of  letters, 
was  about  to  found  there  the  first  evangelical 
university  ''  for  the  restoration  of  the  liberal 
sciences."  Its  inauo^uration  was  fixed  to  take 
place  on  May  2)^.  Hamilton  and  his  friends 
might  arrive  in  time.  They  bent  their  course 
toward  Hesse,  and  reached  the  banks  of  the 
Lahn. 

At  the  time  of  their  arrival  the  little  town 
was  full  of  unaccustomed  movement.  Undi- 
verted by  this  stir,  Hamilton  hastened  to  find 
out  the  Frenchman  whose  name  had  been  men- 
tioned to  him,  and  other  learned  men  who  were 
likely  also  to  be  at  Marburg.  He  found  the 
sprightly,  pious  and  resolute  Lambert,  an  op- 
ponent, like  the  landgrave,  of  half  measures, 
and  a  man  determined  to  take  action  in  such 
wise  that  the  Reformation  should  not  be  check- 
ed halfway.  The  young  abbot  of  the  North  and 
the  aged  monk  of  the  South  thus  met,  under- 
stood each  other,  and   soon   lived   together  in 

24 


370  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

great  familiarity.  Lambert  said  to  him  that 
the  hidden  things  had  been  revealed  by  Jesus 
Christ ;  that  what  distinguishes  our  religion 
from  all  others  is  the  fact  that  God  has  spoken 
to  us;  that  the  Scriptures  are  sufficient  to  make 
us  perfect.  He  did  not  philosophize  much,  per- 
suaded that  by  dint  of  philosophizing  one  swerves 
from  the  truth.  He  set  aside  with  equal  energy 
the  superstition  which  invents  a  marvelous  myth- 
ology and  the  incredulity  which  denies  divine 
and  supernatural  action.  "  Everything  which 
has  been  perverted  \deforme'\  must  be  reform- 
ed \refonne'\','  said  Lambert,  "and  all  reform 
which  proceeds  otherwise  than  according  to  the 
word  of  God  is  nothing.  All  the  inventions  of 
human  reason  are,  in  the  matter  of  religion,  noth- 
ing but  trifling  and  rubbish." 

The  commotion  which  then  prevailed  amongst 
the  population  of  Marburg  was  occasioned  by 
the  approaching  inauguration  of  the  university 
founded  by  the  landgrave.  On  May  30th 
the  chancellor  presided  at  that  ceremony.  No 
school  of  learninor  had  ever  been  founded  on 
such  a  basis ;  one  must  suppose  that  the  union 
which  ought  to  exist  between  science  and  faith 
was  in  this  case  unrecognized.  There  is  noth- 
ing in  Hamilton's  writings  to  show  that  in  this 
matter  he  shared  the  opinions  of  Lambert. 
With  great  evangelical  simplicity  as  to  the 
faith,  the  Scotchman  had  rather,  in  his  manner 


PA  TR ICK  HA  MIL  TON.  3  / 1 

of  setting  it  forth,  a  metaphysical,  speculative 
tendency,  which  is  a  marked  feature  of  the 
Scottish  mind.  The  principles  which  were  to 
characterize  the  new  university  were  these. 
"The  Holy  Scriptures,"  says  a  document  of 
Marburg  which  has  been  preserved,  "  ought 
to  be  purely  and  piously  interpreted,  and  no 
one  who  fails  to  do  so  is  to  teach  in  the  school. 
From  the  science  of  law  must  be  cut  off  every- 
thing which  is  either  unchristian  or  impious.  It 
is  not  mere  scholars  who  are  to  be  appointed 
in  the  faculties  of  law,  of  medicine,  of  the 
sciences  and  of  letters,  but  men  who  shall 
combine  with  science  the  knowledge  of  the 
Holy  Scriptures  and  piety." 

Thus  we  see  that  the  opposition  between 
science  and  faith  was  already  attracting  at- 
tention, and  the  landgrave  settled  the  ques- 
tion by  excluding  science  and  those  learned 
in  it,  since  they  were  not  in  agreement  with 
the  Scriptures — just  as  in  other  ages  men 
would  have  theology  and  theologians  set  aside, 
since  they  were  not  in  agreement  with  human 
learning.  No  one  ought  to  teach  in  the  schools 
of  theology  except  in  conformity  with  the  Script- 
ures of  God,  the  supreme  authority  in  the 
Church.  To  disregard  this  principle  is  to  take 
in  hand  to  destroy  the  flock  of  God.  The  fa- 
naticism of  the  School,  however,  cannot  justify 
the   fanaticism    of  the   Church.     It  is  a  grave 


372  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

matter  to  banish  science  on  account  of  the  dan- 
gers to  which  It  exposes  us.  To  exclude  the 
fire  from  the  hearth  for  fear  of  conflagration 
would  not  be  reasonable ;  far  better  to  take  the 
precautions  which  good  sense  points  out  for 
preventing  the  evil.  If  science  and  faith  are 
to  advance  together  without  peril,  It  can  only 
be  brought  about  by  the  Intervention  of  the 
moral  principle.  The  existence  of  so-called 
freethinkers  arises  from  a  moral  decay ;  certain 
excesses  of  an  exaggerated  orthodoxy  may  per- 
haps proceed  from  the  same  cause.  A  presump- 
tuous and  passionate  haste,  affirming  and  de- 
nying to  the  first  comer,  Is  a  grave  fault.  How 
many  times  has  It  happened  that  some  law,  some 
fact  proclaimed  by  Science  at  one  period  as  suf- 
ficient to  convict  the  Scriptures  of  error,  has  had 
to  be  given  up  soon  after  by  Science  herself  as 
a  mistake !  But  let  religious  men  be  on  their 
guard  against  the  Indolence  and  the  cowardice 
which  would  lead  them  to  repulse  Science  out 
of  fear  lest  she  should  remain  mistress  of  the 
field  of  battle.  By  so  doing  they  would  deprive 
themselves  of  the  weapons  most  serviceable  for 
the  defence  of  their  treasures,  as  well  as  of  the 
most  fitting  occasions  for  spreading  them  abroad. 
Lambert  did  not  ^o  to  such  a  lencrth,  but  he  was 
persuaded  that  unless  a  breath  divine,  coming 
from  on  high,  give  life  to  academical  teaching, 
the  university  would  be  nothing  more  than  a 


PATRICK  HAMILTON.  373 

dead  mechanism,  and  that  science,  Instead  of 
propagating  a  healthy  and  enhghtened  cultiva- 
tion, would  only  darken  and  pervert  men's 
minds.  This  is  surely  a  very  reasonable  and 
very  practical  thought,  and  it  is  to  be  regretted 
that  it  has  not  always  regulated  public  instruc- 
tion. 

After  the  delivery  of  the  inaugural  discourses, 
the  rector,  Montanus,  professor  of  civil  law, 
opened  the  roll  of  the  university  to  enter  in  it 
the  names  of  its  members.  Professors,  pastors, 
state  functionaries,  nobles,  foreigners,  students, 
one  hundred  and  ten  persons  in  all,  gave  their 
names.  The  first  to  sign  was  the  rector,  the 
second  was  Lambert ;  then  came  Adam  Crato, 
Professor  Ehrard  Schnepf,  one  of  the  first  Ger- 
mans converted  by  Luther,  Enriclus  Cordus,  who 
had  accompanied  Luther  to  Worms,  and  Her- 
mann von  dem  Busche,  professor  of  poetry  and 
eloquence.  In  a  little  while  three  young  men 
of  foreign  aspect  approached.  The  first  of 
them  signed  his  name  thus :  Patricius  Hamilton, 
a  Litgovien,  Scohis,  magister  Parisierisis  ;  his  two 
friends  signed  after  him. 

From  that  time  the  Frenchman  and  the 
Scotchman  frequently  studied  the  Holy  Script- 
ures together,  and  with  interest  always  new. 
The  large  acquaintance  with  the  word  of  God 
which  Hamilton  possessed  astonished  Lambert ; 
the  freshness  of  his  thoughts  and  of  his  Imagi- 


374  MARTYRS   OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

nation  charmed  him  ;  the  integrity  of  his  charac- 
ter inspired  a  high  esteem  for  him  ;  his  profound 
remarks  on  the  gospel  edified  him.  A  short 
time  after  this  the  Frenchman,  speaking  to  the 
landgrave  Philip,  said,  "  This  young  man,  of  the 
illustrious  family  of  the  Hamiltons,  which  is 
closely  allied  by  the  ties  of  blood  to  the  king 
and  the  kingdom  of  Scotland,  who  although 
hardly  twenty-three  years  of  age  brings  to  the 
study  of  Scripture  a  very  sound  judgment  and 
has  a  vast  store  of  knowledge,  is  come  from 
the  end  of  the  world,  from  Scotland,  to  your 
academy,  in  order  to  be  more  fully  established 
in  God's  truth.  I  have  hardly  ever  met  a  man 
who  expresses  himself  with  so  much  spirituality 
and  truth  on  the  word  of  the  Lord."  Such  is 
the  testimony  given  in  Germany  by  a  French- 
man to  the  young  Reformer  of  Scotland. 

Will  Hamilton  remain  at  Marburg?  Shall 
he  not  see  Luther,  Melanchthon  and  the  other 
doctors  of  the  Reformation  ?  It  has  been  gen- 
erally supposed  that  he  did  go  to  Wittenberg, 
but  there  is  no  evidence  of  this,  either  in  the 
university  registers  or  in  Luther's  or  Melanch- 
thon's  letters.  This  tradition,  therefore,  appears 
to  us  to  be  unfounded.  As  Hamilton  had,  how- 
ever, formed  the  intention  of  visiting  Luther 
when  he  left  Scotland,  what  motive  led  him  to 
relinquish  his  design  ?  It  was  this :  Early  in 
July,  at  the  very  time  when  the  young  Scotch- 


PATRICK  HAMILTON.  375 

man  might  have  gone  to  Wittenberg,  a  report 
was  spread  abroad  that  Luther  had  suddenly 
fallen  ill.  The  plague  was  at  Wittenberg.  Two 
persons  died  of  it  in  Melanchthon's  house ;  one 
of  his  sons  was  attacked,  and  one  of  the  sons 
of  Jonas  lost  his  life.  Hans  Luft,  the  printer 
of  Marburg,  who  was  at  Wittenberg  on  busi- 
ness, fell  ill  and  his  mind  wandered.  Such, 
doubtless,  were  the  circumstances  which  detain- 
ed Hamilton  at  Marburg.  On  hearing  that  in 
consequence  of  the  plague  the  courses  of  lec- 
tures had  partly  at  least  been  transferred  to  Jena, 
he  gave  up  Wittenberg ;  and  thus  is  explained 
quite  naturally  the  want  of  original  documents 
respecting  his  alleged  sojourn  at  the  Saxon 
university.  A  very  painful  sacrifice  was  thus 
demanded  of  him.  Lambert  resolved  to  turn 
the  disappointment  to  good  account.  Having 
a  high  idea  of  the  faith,  the  judgment  and  abil- 
ities of  Hamilton,  he  begged  him  to  compose 
some  theses  on  the  evangelical  doctrine,  and  to 
defend  them  publicly.  Every  one  supported 
this  request,  for  an  academical  solemnity  at 
which  a  foreign  theologian  belonging  to  the 
royal  family  of  Scotland  should  hold  the  chief 
place  could  not  fail  to  throw  a  certain  eclat  over 
the  new  university.  Hamilton  consented.  His 
subject  was  quickly  chosen.  In  his  eyes  a  man's 
religion  was  not  sound  unless  it  had  its  source 
in  the  word  of  God  and  in  the  inmost  experi- 


376  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

ence  of  the  soul  which  receives  that  word,  and 
is  thereby  led  into  the  truth.  He  deemed  it 
necessary  to  present  the  doctrine  in  this  prac- 
tical aspect,  rather  than  to  lose  himself  in  the 
speculative  theorems  of  an  obscure  scholasti- 
cism. 

On  the  day  appointed  Hamilton  entered  the 
great  hall  of  the  university,  in  which  were  gath- 
ered professors,  students  and  a  numerous  audi- 
ence besides.  He  announced  that  he  was  about 
to  establish  a  certain  number  of  truths  respect- 
ing the  law  and  the  gospel,  and  that  he  would 
maintain  them  against  all  comers.  These  the- 
ses, all  of  a  practical  character,  had,  however, 
somewhat  of  that  dialectical  spirit  which  distin- 
guished at  a  subsequent  period  the  philosoph- 
ical schools  of  Scotland,  and  were  drawn  up  in 
a  pure  and  lapidary  style  which  secures  for  this 
theologian  of  three-and-twenty  a  noteworthy 
place  among  the  doctors  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury. 

"  There  is  a  difference,  and  even  an  opposi- 
tion, between  the  law  and  the  gospel,"  said 
Hamilton.  "The  law  showeth  us  our  sin ;  the 
gospel  showeth  us  a  remedy  for  it.  The  law 
showeth  us  our  condemnation ;  the  gospel 
showeth  us  our  redemption.  The  law  is  the 
word  of  ire ;  the  gospel  is  the  word  of  grace. 
The  law  is  the  word  of  despair ;  the  gospel  is 
the  word  of  comfort.     The  law  is  the  word  of 


PATRICK  HAMILTON.  377 

unrest ;  the  gospel  is  the  word  of  peace.  The 
law  saith,  Pay  thy  debt ;  the  gospel  saith,  Christ 
hath  paid  it.  The  law  saith,  Thou  art  a  sinner 
—  despair,  and  thou  shalt  be  damned;  the  gos- 
pel saith.  Thy  sins  are  forgiven  thee — be  of 
good  comfort,  thou  shalt  be  saved.  The  law 
saith.  Make  amends  for  thy  sins  ;  the  gospel 
saith,  Christ  hath  made  it  for  thee.  The  law 
saith,  The  Father  of  heaven  is  angry  with 
thee  ;  the  gospel  saith,  Christ  hath  pacified  him 
with  his  blood.  The  law  saith,  Where  is  thy 
righteousness,  goodness  and  satisfaction  ?  the 
gospel  saith,  Christ  is  thy  righteousness,  thy 
goodness,  thy  satisfaction.  The  law  saith,  Thou 
art  bound  and  obliged  to  me,  to  the  devil  and 
to  hell ;  the  gospel  saith,  Christ  hath  delivered 
thee  from  them  all." 

The  attack  began,  and  the  defence  of  the 
young  master  of  arts  was  as  remarkable  as 
his  exposition.  Even  though  he  made  use  of 
the  syllogism,  he  shook  off  the  dust  of  the 
School  and  put  something  perspicuous  and 
striking  in  its  place.  When  one  opponent 
maintained  that  a  man  is  justified  by  the  law, 
Hamilton  replied  by  this  syllogism : 

"  That  which  is  the  cause  of  condemnation 
cannot  be  the  cause  of  justification. 

"The  law  is  the  cause  of  condemnation. 

"  Therefore  the  law  is  not  the  cause  of  justi- 
fication." 


37^  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION, 

His  phraseology,  clear,  concise  and  salient — 
rare  qualities  In  Germany,  except  perhaps  in 
Luther — his  practical,  transparent,  conscien- 
tious Christianity,  struck  the  minds  of  his  hear- 
ers. Certainly,  said  Lambert,  Hamilton  has  put 
forward  thoroughly  Christian  axioms,  and  has 
maintained  them  with  a  great  deal  of  learning. 

Hamilton  engaged  in  other  public  disputa- 
tions besides  this.  As  faith  in  Christ  and  justl- 
catlon  by  faith  Is  the  principle  which  distin- 
guishes Protestantism  from  all  other  Christian 
systems,  he  felt  bound  to  establish  the  nature, 
importance  and  Influence  of  that  doctrine. 
He  believed  that  faith  is  born  in  a  man's  heart 
when,  as  he  hears  or  reads  the  word  of  God,  the 
Holy  Spirit  bears  witness  in  his  heart  to  the 
main  truth  which  is  found  in  It,  and  shows  him 
with  clear  proof  that  Jesus  is  really  an  almighty 
Saviour.  Faith  was  for  the  young  Scotchman 
a  divine  work,  which  he  carefully  distinguished 
from  a  faith  merely  human.  On  this  subject  he 
laid  down  and  defended  the  following  proposi- 
tions :  "  He  who  does  not  believe  the  word  of 
God  does  not  believe  God  himself.  Faith  is 
the  root  of  all  that  Is  good ;  unbelief  is  the  root 
of  all  evil.  Faith  makes  friends  of  God  and 
of  man ;  unbelief  makes  enemies  of  them. 
Faith  lets  us  see  in  God  a  Father  full  of  een- 
tleness ;  unbelief  presents  him  to  us  as  a  terri- 
ble  Judge.      Faith   sets  a   man   steadfast  on  a 


FA  TRICK  HA  MIL  TON.  379 

rock  ;  unbelief  leaves  him  constantly  wavering 
and  tottering.  To  wish  to  be  saved  by  works 
is  to  make  a  man's  self  his  savior,  instead  of 
Jesus  Christ.  Wouldst  thou  make  thyself  equal 
with  God  ?  Wouldst  thou  refuse  to  accept  the 
least  thing  from  him  without  paying  him  the 
value  of  it?" 

Fryth,  who  doubtless  took  part  in  the  discus- 
sion, was  so  much  struck  with  these  theses  that 
he  translated  them  into  English,  and  by  that 
means  they  have  come  down  to  us.  "  The 
truths  which  Hamilton  expounded  are  such," 
said  he,  "  that  the  man  who  is  acquainted  with 
them  has  the  pith  of  all  divinity." — "  This  little 
treatise  is  short,"  said  others  who  listened  to 
him,  *'  but  in  effect  it  comprehendeth  matter 
able  to  fill  large  volumes."  Yes,  Christ  is  the 
Author  of  redemption,  and  faith  is  the  eye  which 
sees  and  receives  him.  There  are  only  these 
two  things :  Christ  sacrificed,  and  the  eye  which 
contemplates  him.  The  eye,  it  is  true,  is  not 
man's  only  organ  ;  we  have  besides  hands  to 
work,  feet  to  walk,  ears  to  hear,  and  other 
members  more  for  our  service.  But  none  of 
all  these  members  can  see,  but  only  the  eye. 

In  the  midst  of  all  these  labors,  however, 
Hamilton  was  thinking  of  Scotland.  It  was 
not  of  the  benefices  which  had  been  conferred 
on  him,  not  of  St.  Andrews  nor  of  the  misty 
lochs  or  picturesque  glens ;  it  was  not  even  of 


380  MARTYRS   OF  THE   REFORMATION. 

his  family  or  of  his  friends  that  he  thought  the 
most.  What  occupied  his  mind  night  and  day 
were  the  ignorance  and  superstition  in  which  his 
countrymen  were  Hving.  What  powerfully  ap- 
pealed to  him  was  the  necessity  of  giving  glory 
to  God  and  of  doing  good  to  his  own  people. 
And  yet  would  it  not  be  madness  to  return  to 
them  ?  Had  he  not  seen  the  animosity  of  the 
Scottish  clergy?  Did  he  not  know  well  the 
power  of  the  primate  Beatoun  ?  Had  he  not, 
only  six  or  seven  months  before,  left  his  coun- 
try in  all  haste  ?  Why,  then,  these  thoughts  of 
returning?  There  was  good  reason  for  them. 
Hamilton  had  been  fortified  in  spirit  during  his 
sojourn  at  Marburg ;  his  faith  and  his  courage 
had  increased ;  by  living  with  decided  Chris- 
tians, who  were  ready  to  give  their  lives  for 
the  gospel,  he  had  been  tempered  like  steel 
and  had  become  stronger.  It  could  not  be 
doubted  that  extreme  peril  awaited  him  in 
Scotland :  his  two  friends,  John  Hamilton  and 
Wynram,  did  not  understand  his  impatience 
and  were  resolved  to  wait.  But  neither  their 
example  nor  the  urgency  of  Lambert  could 
quench  the  ardor  of  the  young  hero.  He  felt 
the  sorrow  of  parting  with  Lambert  and  of  final- 
ly giving  up  the  hope  of  seeing  Luther  and  Me- 
lanchthon ;  but  he  had  heard  God's  call ;  his 
one  duty  was  to  answer  to  it.  About  the  end 
of  autumn  1527  he  embarked  with  his  faithful 


PATRICK  HAMILTON.  38 1 

servant  and  sailed  toward  the  shores  of  Cale- 
donia. 

The  Church  of  Rome  in  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, especially  in  Scotland,  was  far  from  be- 
ing apostolic,  although  it  assumed  that  title  : 
nothing  was  less  like  St.  John  or  St.  Peter 
than  its  primates  and  its  prelates,  worldlings 
and  sometimes  warriors  as  they  were.  The 
real  successors  of  the  apostles  were  those  Re- 
formers who  taught  the  doctrines  of  the  apos- 
tles, labored  as  they  did,  and  like  them  were 
persecuted  and  put  to  death.  The  theocratic 
and  political  elements  combined  in  Rome  have, 
with  certain  exceptions,  substituted  the  law — 
that  is,  outward  worship,  ceremonial  ordinances, 
pilgrimages  and  the  exercises  of  ascetic  life — 
for  the  gospel.  The  Reformation  was  a  pow- 
erful reaction  of  the  evangelical  and  moral  ele- 
ment against  the  legal,  sacerdotal,  ascetic  and 
ritualistic  elements  which  had  invaded  the 
Church.  This  reaction  was  about  to  display 
its  energy  in  Scotland,  and  Hamilton  was  to 
be  at  first  its  principal  organ. 

Already,  before  his  return,  the  sacred  books 
had  arrived  in  large  numbers  in  the  principal 
ports  of  the  kingdom.  Attention  had  been 
awakened,  but  at  the  same  time  ignorance, 
dishonesty  and  fanaticism  had  risen  in  revolt 
against  the  evangelical  Scriptures.  The  priests 
said  that  the  Old  Testament  was  the  only  true 


382  MARTYRS   OF   THE   RP: FORMATION. 

one,  and  pretended  that  the  New  had  been  re- 
cently invented  by  Martin  Luther.  Conse- 
quently, in  August,  1527,  the  earl  of  Angus, 
at  the  instigation  of  Dunbar,  bishop  of  Aber- 
deen, had  confirmed  the  ordinance  of  1525, 
and  had  decreed  that  the  king's  subjects  who 
circulated  the  sacred  books  should  be  visited 
with  the  same  penalties  as  people  from  abroad. 
If,  therefore,  a  vessel  arrived  at  Leith,  Dundee, 
St.  Andrews  or  Aberdeen,  the  king's  officers 
immediately  went  on  board,  and  if  any  copies 
of  the  New  Testament  were  found  there  the 
ship  and  the  cargo  were  confiscated  and  the 
captain  was  imprisoned. 

Some  time  after  this  ordinance  the  ship  which 
carried  Hamilton  reached  port,  and  although 
this  young  Christian  always  had  his  New  Tes- 
tament in  his  pocket,  he  landed  without  being 
arrested,  and  went  his  way  to  Kincavil.  It 
was  about  the  end  of  1527.  Patrick  tenderly 
loved  his  mother  and  his  sister ;  everybody 
appreciated  his  amiable  character ;  the  ser- 
vants and  all  his  neighbors  were  his  friends. 
This  gendeness  made  his  work  easier.  But 
his  strength  lay,  above  all,  in  the  depth  and 
the  sincerity  of  his  Christian  spirit.  "  Christ 
bare  our  sins  on  his  back  and  bought  us  with 
his  blood :"  this  was  the  master-chord  which 
vibrated  in  his  soul.  In  setting  forth  any 
subject   he    silenced    his    own    reasonings   and 


PATRICK  HAMILTON.  383 

let  the  Bible  speak.  No  one  had  a  clearer 
perception  of  the  analogies  and  the  contrasts 
which  characterize  the  evangelical  doctrine. 
With  these  intellectual  qualities  were  associa- 
ted eminent  moral  virtues  ;  he  practiced  the 
principles  which  he  held  to  be  true  with  im- 
movable fidelity ;  he  taught  them  with  a  touch- 
ing charity ;  he  defended  them  with  energetic 
decision.  Whether  he  approached  a  laborer, 
a  monk  or  a  noble,  it  was  with  the  desire  to 
do  him  good,  to  lead  him  to  God.  He  taxed 
his  ingenuity  to  devise  all  means  of  bearing 
witness  to  the  truth.  His  courage  was  firm,  his 
perseverance  unflagging,  and  in  his  dignified  seri- 
ousness his  youth  was  forgotten.  His  social  posi- 
tion added  weight  to  his  influence.  We  have 
seen  that  the  aristocracy  played  a  far  larger 
part  in  Scotland  than  in  any  other  European 
country.  It  would  have  seemed  a  strange 
thing  to  the  Scots  for  a  man  of  the  people  to 
meddle  with  such  a  matter  as  reform  of  the 
Church ;  but  if  the  man  that  spoke  to  them 
belonged  to  an  illustrious  family,  the  position 
which  he  took  appeared  to  them  legitimate, 
and  they  were  all  inclined  to  listen  to  his 
voice.  Such  was  the  Reformer  whom  God 
gave  to  Scotland. 

Patrick's  elder  brother.  Sir  James  Hamilton, 
on  succeeding  to  the  estates  and  titles  of  his 
father  had  been   appointed   sheriff  of  Linlith- 


384  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

gowshlre.  James  had  not  the  abilities  of  his 
brother,  but  he  was  full  of  uprightness  and 
humility.  His  wife,  Isabella  Sempill,  belonged 
to  an  ancient  Scottish  family,  and  ten  young 
children  surrounded  this  amiable  pair.  Cath- 
erine, Patrick's  sister,  bore  some  resemblance 
to  him  ;  she  had  much  simplicity  of  character, 
sense  and  decision.  But  it  was  most  of  all  in 
the  society  of  his  mother,  the  widow  of  the 
valiant  knight,  that  Patrick  sought  and  enjoyed 
the  pure  and  keen  delight  of  domestic  life. 
He  opened  his  heart  to  all  these  beloved  ones  ; 
he  made  known  to  them  the  peace  which  he 
had  found  in  the  gospel,  and  by  degrees  his  re- 
lations were  brought  to  the  faith,  of  which  they 
afterward  gave  brilRant  evidence. 

The  zeal  which  was  consuming  him  could  not 
long  be  confined  within  the  limits  of  his  own 
family.  His  love  for  the  gospel  silenced  within 
him  all  fear,  and,  full  of  courage,  he  was  ready 
to  endure  the  insults  which  his  faith  might  bring 
on  him.  "The  bright  beams  of  the  true  light, 
which  by  God's  grace  were  planted  in  his  heart, 
began  most  abundantly  to  burst  forth,  as  well  In 
public  as  in  secret."  Hamilton  went  about  in 
the  surrounding  country,  his  name  securing  for 
him  everywhere  a  hearty  welcome.  When  the 
young  laird  was  seen  approaching,  laborers  left 
the  field  which  they  were  cultivating,  women 
came  out  of  every  poor  cottage,  and  all  gath- 


PATRICK  HAMILTON.  385 

ered  about  him  respectfully  and  lent  him  an  at- 
tentive ear.  Priests,  citizens  from  the  neighbor- 
ing town,  women  of  rank,  lords  quitting  their 
castles,  people  of  all  classes,  met  together  there. 
Patrick  received  them  with  a  kindly  smile  and  a 
orraceful  bearincr.  He  addressed  to  souls  that 
first  word  of  the  gospel,  "  Be  converted,"  but  he 
also  pointed  out  the  errors  of  the  Romish  Church 
His  hearers  returned  astonished  at  his  knowl- 
edge of  the  Scriptures,  and  the  people,  touched 
by  the  salvation  which  he  proclaimed,  increased 
in  number  from  day  to  day.  Southward  of  the 
manor-house  of  Kincavil  extends  a  chain  of 
rocky  hills  whose  lofty  peaks  and  slopes,  dotted 
with  clumps  of  trees,  produced  in  the  midst  of 
that  district  a  most  picturesque  effect.  There 
more  than  once  he  talked  freely  about  the  gos- 
pel with  the  country-folk  who  in  the  heat  of  the 
day  came  to  rest  under  the  shadow  of  the  rocks. 
Sometimes  he  climbed  the  hills,  and  from  their 
tops  contemplated  the  whole  range  of  country 
in  which  he  announced  the  good  news.  That 
craig  still  exists,  a  picturesque  monument  of 
Hamilton's  gospel  mission. 

He  began  soon  to  set  forth  the  gospel  in 
the  lowly  churches  of  the  neighboring  vil- 
lages ;  then  he  grew  bolder  and  preached 
even  in  the  beautiful  sanctuary  of  St.  Mi- 
chael at  Linlithgow,  in  the  midst  of  nu- 
merous  and   rich  altars.     No   sooner  had   the 

25 


386  MARTYRS   OF   THE    REFORMATION, 

report  of  his  preaching  begun  to  get  abroad 
than  every  one  wanted  to  hear  him.  The  name 
which  he  bore,  his  gracious  aspect,  his  learning, 
his  piety,  drew  about  him  day  by  day  a  larger 
number  of  hearers ;  for  a  long  time  such  a 
crowd  had  not  been  seen  flocking  into  the 
church.  Linhthgow,  the  favorite  abode  of  the 
court,  was  sometimes  bright  with  unaccustomed 
splendor.  The  members  of  the  royal  family 
and  the  most  illustrious  nobles  of  the  kingdom 
came  to  unite  with  the  citizens  and  the  people 
in  the  church.  This  fashionable  auditory,  whose 
looks  were  fixed  on  the  Reformer  of  three-and- 
twenty,  did  not  at  all  intimidate  him ;  the  plain- 
ness, clearness  and  conciseness  which  charac- 
terized Hamilton's  style  were. better  adapted  to 
act  on  the  minds  of  the  great  than  pompous 
declamation.  "  Knowest  thou  what  this  saying 
means,"  said  he  :  "'Christ  died  for  thee'?  Ver- 
ily, that  thou  shouldest  have  died  perpetually  ; 
and  Christ,  to  deliver  thee  from  death,  died  for 
thee,  and  changed  thy  perpetual  death  into  his 
own  death ;  for  thou  madest  the  fault  and  he 
suffered  the  pain.  ...  He  desireth  naught  of 
thee  but  that  thou  wilt  acknowledge  what  he 
hath  done  for  thee,  and  bear  it  in  mind,  and 
that  thou  wilt  help  others  for  his  sake,  even 
as  he  hath  holpen  thee  for  naught  and  without 
reward." 

Among  his  hearers  was  a  young  maiden  of 


PATRICK  HAMILTON.  387 

noble  birth  who  with  joy  received  the  good 
news  of  salvation.  Hamilton  recognized  In 
her  a  soul  akin  to  his  own.  He  had  adopted 
the  principles  of  Luther  on  marriage;  he  was 
familiar  with  the  conversations  which  the  Re- 
former had  with  his  friends  on  the  subject,  and 
which  were  reported  all  over  Germany.  *'  My 
father  and  mother,"  said  Luther  one  day,  "  lived 
In  the  holy  state  of  marriage  ;  even  the  patri- 
archs and  prophets  did  the  same ;  why  should 
not  I  do  so  ?  Marriage  Is  the  holiest  state  of 
all,  and  the  celibacy  of  priests  has  been  the 
cause  of  abominable  sins.  We  must  marry, 
and  thus  defy  the  pope,  and  assert  the  liberty 
which  God  gives  us  and  which  Rome  presumes 
to  steal  away."  However,  to  marry  was  a  dar- 
ing step  for  Hamilton  to  take,  considering  "  the 
present  necessity,"  as  speaks  the  apostle  Paul. 
As  abbot  of  Feme  and  connected  with  the  first 
families  of  Scotland,  his  marriage  must  needs 
excite  to  the  highest  degree  the  wrath  of  the 
priests.  Besides  which,  It  would  call  for  great 
decision  on  the  part  of  Patrick  and  genuine 
sympathy  on  the  part  of  the  young  Christian 
maiden  to  unite  themselves  as  it  were  in  slg-ht 
of  the  scaffold.  The  marriage,  however,  took 
place,  probably  at  the  beginning  of  1528.  "A 
little  while  before  his  death,"  says  Aleslus,  "  he 
married  a  noble  young  maiden."  It  is  possible 
that  the  knowledge  of  this  union  did  not  pass 


388  MARTYRS    OF   THE    REFORMATION. 

beyond  the  family  circle.  It  remained  unknown 
to  his  biographers  till  our  own  time. 

While  Hamilton  was  preaching  at  Linlithgow, 
Archbishop  Beatoun  was  at  the  monastery  of 
Dunfermline,  about  four  leagues  distant,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Forth.  The  prelate,  when  he 
learnt  the  return  of  the  young  noble  who  had 
so  narrowly  escaped  him,  saw  clearly  that  a 
missionary  animated  with  Luther's  spirit,  thor- 
oughly familiar  with  the  manners  of  the  people 
and  supported  by  the  powerful  family  of  the 
Hamiltons,  was  a  formidable  adversary.  News 
which  crossed  the  Forth  or  came  from  Edin- 
burgh did  but  increase  the  apprehensions  of 
the  archbishop.  Beatoun  was  a  determined 
enemy  of  the  gospel.  Having  governed  Scot- 
land during  the  minority  of  the  king,  he  was  in- 
dignant at  the  thought  of  the  troubles  with  which 
Hamilton's  preaching  menaced  the  Church  and 
the  realm.  The  clergy  shared  the  alarm  of 
their  head  ;  the  city  of  St.  Andrews  especially, 
which  one  Scottish  historian  has  called  "  the 
metropolis  of  the  kingdom  of  darkness,"  was  in 
a  state  of  great  agitation.  The  dean  Spence, 
the  rector  Weddel,  the  official  Simson,  the  can- 
on Ramsay  and  the  heads  of  various  monaste- 
ries consulted  together  and  exclaimed  that  peril 
was  imminent,  and  that  it  was  absolutely  neces- 
sary to  get  rid  of  so  dangerous  an  adversary. 

The  archbishop,  therefore,  took  counsel  with 


PATRICK  HAMILTON.  389 

his  nephew  and  some  other  clerics  as  to  the 
best  means  of  making  away  with  Hamilton. 
Great  prudence  was  needful.  They  must  make 
sure  of  the  inclinations  of  Angus ;  they  must 
divert  the  attention  of  the  young  king,  who, 
with  his  generosity  of  character,  might  wish  to 
save  his  relation  ;  they  must  in  some  way  en- 
snare the  evangelist,  for  Beatoun  did  not  dream 
of  sendinof  men-at-arms  to  seize  Patrick  at  Kin- 
cavil  in  the  house  of  his  brother  the  sheriff  So 
the  archbishop  resolved  to  have  recourse  to 
stratagem.  In  pursuit  of  the  scheme,  Hamil- 
ton, only  a  few  days  after  his  marriage,  re- 
ceived an  invitation  to  go  to  St.  Andrews  for 
the  purpose  of  a  friendly  conference  with  the 
archbishop  concerning  religion.  The  young 
noble,  who  the  year  before  had  divined  the  per- 
fidious projects  of  tlie  clergy,  knew  well  the 
import  of  the  interview  which  was  proposed 
to  him,  and  he  told  those  who  were  dear  to 
him  that  in  a  few  days  he  should  lose  his  life. 
His  mother,  his  wife,  his  brother,  his  sister,  ex- 
erted all  their  influence  to  keep  him  from  going, 
but  he  was  determined  not  to  flee  a  second 
time ;  and  he  asked  himself  whether  the  mo- 
ment was  not  come  in  which  a  great  blow  might 
be  struck  and  the  triumph  of  the  gospel  be  at- 
tained. He  declared  therefore  that  he  was 
ready  to  go  to  the  Scottish  Rome. 

On  his  arrival  at  St.  Andrews  the  young  Re- 


390  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

former  presented  himself  before  the  archbish- 
op, who  gave  him  the  most  gracious  reception. 
Is  it  possible  that  these  good  graces  were  sin- 
cere, and  not  treacherous  as  was  generally  sup- 
posed? Did  Beatoun  hope  to  win  him  back 
by  such  means  to  the  bosom  of  the  Church  ? 
Every  one  in  the  palace  testified  respect  to 
Hamilton.  The  prelate  had  provided  for  him 
a  lodging  in  the  city,  to  which  he  was  conduct- 
ed. Patrick,  when  he  saw  the  respect  with 
which  he  was  treated,  felt  still  more  encour- 
aged to  set  forth  frankly  the  faith  that  was  in 
his  heart.  He  went  back  to  the  castle,  where 
the  conference  with  the  archbishop  and  the 
other  doctors  was  to  be  held.  All  of  them 
displayed  a  conciliatory  spirit :  all  appeared  to 
recognize  the  evils  in  the  Church ;  some  of  them 
seemed  even  to  share  on  some  points  the  sen- 
timents of  Hamilton.  He  left  the  castle  full  of 
hope.  He  thought  that  he  could  see  in  the  dense 
wall  of  Romish  prejudices  a  small  opening  which 
by  the  hand  of  God  might  soon  be  widened. 

He  lost  no  time.  Left  perfectly  free,  he  went 
and  came  whithersoever  he  would,  and  was  al- 
lowed to  defend  his  opinions  without  any  ob- 
stacle being  thrown  in  his  way.  This  was  the 
part  of  the  plot.  If  the  archbishop  himself 
were  capable  of  some  kindly  feeling,  his  neph- 
ew David  and  several  others  were  pitiless. 
They  wished  Hamilton  to  speak,  and  to  speak 


PATRICK  HAMILTON.  39 1 

a  good  deal ;  he  must  be  taken  in  the  very 
fact,  that  they  might  dare  to  put  him  to  death. 
Amone  those  who  Hstened  to  him  there  were 
present,  without  his  being  aware  of  it,  some 
who  took  notes  of  his  sayings  and  immediate- 
ly made  their  report.  His  enemies  were  not 
satisfied  with  letting  him  move  about  freely  in 
private  houses,  but  even  the  halls  of  the  uni- 
versity were  opened  to  him  ;  he  might  "  teach 
there  and  discuss  there  openly,"  as  an  eye-wit- 
ness tells  us,  respecting  the  doctrines,  the  sac- 
raments, the  rites  and  the  administration  of  the 
Church.  Many  people  were  pleased  to  hear 
this  young  noble  announce,  with  the  permission 
of  the  primate  of  Scotland,  dogmas  so  strange. 
''  They  err,"  said  Hamilton  to  his  audience, 
"whose  religion  consists  in  men's  merits,  in 
traditions,  laws,  canons  and  ceremonies,  and 
who  make  little  or  no  mention  of  the  faith  of 
Christ.  They  err  who  make  the  gospel  to  be 
a  law,  and  Christ  to  be  a  Moses.  To  put  the 
law  in  the  place  of  the  gospel  is  to  put  on  a 
mourning  gown  in  the  feast  of  a  marriage." 
Then  he  repeated  what  he  had  already  assert- 
ed at  Marburg,  what  Luther  had  said,  what 
Jesus  Christ  had  said :  "  It  is  not  good  works 
which  make  a  good  man,  but  it  is  a  good  man 
who  makes  good  works."  It  was  above  all  for 
this  proposition,  so  Christian,  so  clear,  that  he 
was  to  be  attacked. 


392  MARTYRS  OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

The  enemies  of  the  young  Reformer  exulted 
when  they  heard  hnn  avow  principles  so  opposed 
to  those  of  Rome ;  but,  desirous  of  compro- 
mising him  still  further,  they  engaged  him  in 
private  conversations,  in  which  they  tried  hard 
to  draw  him  to  the  extreme  of  his  anti-Romish 
convictions.  Nevertheless,  there  were  among 
his  hearers  righteous  men  who  loved  this  young 
Scotchman,  so  full  of  love  for  God  and  for  men, 
who  went  to  his  house,  confided  to  him  their 
doubts  and  desired  his  guidance.  He  received 
them  with  kindliness,  frequently  invited  them 
to  his  table  and  sought  to  do  good  to  them  all. 

Among  the  canons  of  St.  Andrews  was  Alex- 
der  Alane,  better  known  under  the  Latin  name 
of  Alesius,  who  in  his  boyhood  had  narrowly 
escaped  death  on  Arthur's  Seat.  This  young 
man,  of  modest  character,  with  a  tender  heart, 
a  moderate  yet  resolute  spirit,  and  a  fine  intel- 
ligence which  had  been  developed  by  the  study 
of  ancient  languages,  had  made  great  progress 
in  scholastic  divinity,  and  had  taken  his  place 
at  an  early  age  among  the  adversaries  of  the 
Reformation.  His  keenest  desire  was  to  break 
a  lance  with  Luther ;  controversy  with  the  Re- 
former was  at  that  time  the  oreat  battlefield  on 
which  the  doctors,  young  and  old,  aspired  to 
give  proof  of  their  valor.  As  he  could  not 
measure  himself  personally  with  the  man  whom 
he  named  arch-heretic,  Alesius  had  refuted  his 


PATRICK  HAMILTON.  393 

doctrine  In  a  public  discussion  held  at  the  uni- 
versity. The  theologians  of  St.  Andrews  had 
covered  him  with  applause.  "Assuredly,"  said 
they,  "  If  Luther  had  been  present  he  would 
have  been  compelled  to  yield."  The  fairest 
hopes,  too,  were  entertained  respecting  the 
young  doctor.  Aleslus,  alive  to  these  praises 
and  a  sincere  Catholic,  thought  that  it  would 
be  an  easy  task  for  him  to  convince  young 
Hamilton  of  his  errors.  He  had  been  ac- 
quainted with,  him  before  his  journey  to  Mar- 
burg ;  he  loved  him,  and  he  desired  to  save 
him  by  bringing  him  back  from  his  wanderings. 
With  this  purpose  he  visited  the  young  no- 
ble. Conversation  began.  Aleslus  was  armed 
cap-a-pie,  crammed  with  scholastic  learning,  and 
with  all  the  formulae  quomodo  sit,  quomodo  non 
sit,  Hamilton  had  before  him  nothing  but  the 
gospel,  and  he  replied  to  all  the  reasonings  of 
his  antagonist  with  the  clear,  living  and  pro- 
found word  of  the  Scriptures.  It  has  happen- 
ed more  than  once  that  sincere  men  have  em- 
braced the  truth  a  little  while  after  having  pro- 
nounced against  It.  Aleslus,  struck  and  embar- 
rassed, was  silenced,  and  felt  as  if  "the  morn- 
inor-star  were  rislnof  in  his  heart."  It  was  not 
merely  his  understanding  that  was  convinced. 
The  breath  of  a  new  life  penetrated  his  soul,  and 
at  the  moment  when  the  scaffolding  of  his  syl- 
logisms fell  to  the  ground  the  truth  appeared  to 


394  MAKTYKS   or   THE   REFORMATION, 

him  all  radiant  with  glory.  He  did  not  content 
himself  with  that  first  conference,  but  frequently 
came  again  to  see  Hamilton,  taking  day  by  day 
more  and  more  pleasure  in  his  discourse.  His 
conscience  was  won,  his  mind  was  enlightened. 
On  returning  to  his  priory-cell  he  pondered  with 
amazement  on  the  way  he  had  just  gone.  "  The 
result  of  my  visit  has  been  contrary  to  all  my 
expectation,"  said  he  ;  ''  I  thought  that  I  should 
bring  Hamilton  back  to  the  doctrine  of  Rome, 
and  instead  of  that  he  has  broug^ht  me  to  ac- 
knowledge  my  own  error." 

One  day  another  speaker  came  to  Hamilton. 
This  was  a  young  ecclesiastic,  Alexander  Camp- 
bell, prior  of  the  Dominicans,  who  like  Alesius 
had  a  fine  genius,  great  learning  and  a  kindly 
disposition.  The  archbishop,  who  knew  his 
superiority,  begged  him  to  visit  Hamilton  fre- 
quently, and  to  spare  no  efibrts  to  win  him 
back  to  the  Roman  doctrine.  Campbell  obey- 
ed his  chief;  but  while  certain  priests  or  monks 
craftily  questioned  the  young  doctor  with  the 
intention  of  destroying  him,  the  prior  of  the 
Dominicans  had  it  in  mind  to  save  him.  It  is 
a  mistake  to  attribute  to  him  from  the  first  any 
other  intention.  Campbell,  like  Alesius,  was 
open  to  the  truth,  but  the  love  of  the  world  and 
its  favors  prevailed  in  him  ;  and  therein  lay  his 
danger.  He  frequently  conversed  with  Hamil- 
ton on   the  true  sense  of  the  Scriptures,  and 


PATRICK  HAMILTON.  395 

acknowledged  the  truth  of  Patrick's  words. 
"  Yes,"  said  the  prior,  "  the  Church  is  in  need 
of  reformation  in  many  ways."  Hamilton, 
pleased  with  this  admission,  hoped  to  bring  him 
to  the  faith  like  Alesius,  and  having  no  fear  of 
a  friend  whom  he  already  looked  on  almost  as  a 
brother,  he  kept  back  none  of  his  thoughts  and 
attached  himself  to  him  with  all  sincerity.  But 
after  several  interviews  Campbell  received  or- 
ders from  the  archbishop  to  go  to  him  to  give 
an  account  of  the  result  of  his  proceedings. 
This  request  astonished  and  disturbed  the 
prior;  and  when  he  stood  before  Beatoun  and 
his  councilors  he  was  intimidated,  overpow- 
ered by  fear  at  the  thought  of  offending  the 
primate  and  of  incurring  the  censures  of  the 
Church.  He  would  fain  have  obeyed  at  the 
same  time  both  the  Lord  and  the  bishop ;  he 
would  fain  have  served  God  and  sucked  iii 
honors ;  but  he  saw  no  means  of  reconciling 
the  gospel  and  the  world.  When  he  saw  all 
looks  turned  on  him  he  was  agitated,  he  wa- 
vered, and  told  everything  which  the  young  no- 
ble of  Kincavil  had  said  to  him  in  the  freedom 
of  brotherly  confidence.  He  appeared  to  con- 
demn him,  and  even  consented  to  become  one 
of  his  judges.  Choosing  ease,  reputation  and 
life  rather  than  persecution,  opprobrium  and 
death,  Campbell  turned  his  back  on  the  truth 
and  abandoned  Hamilton. 


39^  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION, 

When  the  young  Reformer  heard  of  Camp- 
bell's treachery,  it  was  a  great  sorrow  to  him, 
but  he  was  not  disheartened.  On  the  contrary, 
he  went  on  teaching  with  redoubled  zeal,  both 
at  his  own  lodging  and  in  the  university.  He 
bore  witness  "  with  hand  and  with  foot,"  as 
used  to  be  said  at  that  time  (that  is  to  say, 
with  all  his  heart  and  with  all  his  might),  to 
the  word  of  God.  For  making  a  beginning 
of  the  work  of  reformation  there  was  no 
place  In  the  kingdom  more  important  than 
St.  Andrews.  Hamilton  found  there  students 
and  professors,  priests,  monks  of  the  orders 
of  St.  Augustine,  St.  Francis  and  St.  Dom- 
inic, canons,  deans,  members  of  the  eccele- 
siastical  courts,  nobles,  jurisconsults  and  lay- 
men of  all  classes.  This  was  the  wide  and 
apparently  favorable  field  on  which  for  one 
month  he  scattered  plentifully  the  divine  seed. 

The  adversaries  of  the  New  Testament,  when 
they  saw  the  success  of  Hamilton's  teachings, 
grew  more  and  more  alarmed  every  day.  There 
must  be  no  more  delay,  they  thought ;  all  com- 
pliance must  cease  and  the  great  blow  must  be 
struck.  Patrick  was  cited  to  appear  at  the  archi- 
eplscopal  palace  to  make  answer  to  a  charge  of 
heresy  brought  against  him.  His  friends  in  alarm 
conjured  him  to  fly:  it  seemed  that  even  the 
archbishop  would  have  been  glad  to  see  him 
set  out  once  more  for  Germany.     Lord  Hamil- 


PATRICK  HAMILTON.  7,<^'J 

ton,  earl  of  Arran,  was  at  once  Patrick's  uncle 
and  the  primate's  nephew  by  marriage.  The 
primate  would  naturally  show  some  considera- 
tion for  a  young  man  whose  family  he  respect- 
ed, but  the  obstacle  was  to  be  raised  on  the 
part  of  Hamilton  himself.  When  he  crossed 
the  North  Sea  to  return  to  Scotland  he  had 
resolved  to  lay  down  his  life,  if  need  be,  if 
only  by  his  death  Christ  should  be  magnified. 
The  joy  of  a  good  conscience  was  so  firmly 
established  in  his  soul  that  no  bodily  suffering 
could  take  it  away. 

As  Patrick  was  not  minded  to  fly  from  the 
scaffold,  his  enemies  determined  to  rid  them- 
selves of  so  formidable  an  antagonist. 

One  obstacle,  however,  lay  in  their  way. 
Would  the  king,  feeble  and  thoughtless,  but 
still  humane  and  generous,  permit  them  to 
sacrifice  this  young  member  of  his  family,  who 
excited  the  admiration  even  of  his  adversaries  ? 
James  V.  felt  really  interested  in  Patrick :  he 
wished  to  see  him,  and  had  urged  him  to  be 
reconciled  with  the  bishops.  If  at  the  last 
moment  the  Hamiltons  should  entreat  his  par- 
don, how  could  he  refuse  it?  To  evade  this 
difficulty  the  Roman  clergy  resolved  to  get 
the  young  monarch  removed  out  of  the  way. 
His  father,  James  IV.,  used  to  make  a  yearly 
pilgrimage  to  the  chapel  of  St.  Duthac,  found- 
ed by  James  III.  in  Ross-shire  in  the  north  of 


39^  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

Scotland.  The  bishops  determined  to  persuade 
this  prince,  then  only  seventeen,  to  undertake 
this  long  journey,  although  it  was  then  the  depth 
of  winter.  The  king  consented,  either  because 
he  was  artfully  misled  by  the  priests,  or  because, 
seeing  that  they  were  determined  to  get  rid  of 
Hamilton,  he  would  rather  let  them  alone  and 
wash  his  hands  of  it.  He  set  out  for  St.  Duthac, 
and  the  priests  immediately  applied  themselves 
to  their  task. 

The  tidings  of  the  imminent  danger  which 
threatened  Patrick  brought  anxiety  into  the 
manor-house  of  Kincavil.  His  wife,  his  moth- 
er and  his  sister  were  deeply  moved :  Sir  James 
was  determined  not  to  confine  himself  to  use- 
less lamentation,  but  to  snatch  his  brother  out 
of  the  hands  of  his  enemies.  As  sheriff  of  Lin- 
lithgow and  captain  of  one  of  the  king's  castles 
he  could  easily  assemble  some  men-at-arms, 
and  he  set  out  for  St.  Andrews  at  the  head  of 
a  small  force,  confident  that  in  case  of  success 
James  V.,  on  his  return  from  St.  Duthac,  would 
grant  him  a  bill  of  indemnity.  But  when  he 
reached  the  shores  of  the  Forth,  which  had 
to  be  crossed  on  his  way  into  Fifeshire,  he 
found  the  waters  in  agitation  from  a  violent 
storm,  so  that  he  could  not  possibly  make  the 
passage.  Sir  James  and  his  men-at-arms  stop- 
ped on  the  coast,  watching  the  waves  with 
mournful    hearts    and    listening   in   anguish    to 


PATRICK  HAMILTON.  399 

the  roar  of  the  storm.  When  the  archbishop 
heard  of  the  appearance  of  a  troop  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Forth  he  collected  a  large  body 
of  horsemen  to  repulse  the  attack.  Those  who 
were  bent  on  resciiine  Hamilton  were  as  full 
of  ardor  as  those  who  were  bent  on  his  de- 
struction. Which  of  the  two  parties  would 
win  the  day  ? 

Hamilton  rose  early  on  the  day  on  which 
he  was  to  appear  before  the  bishop's  council. 
Calm  and  yet  fervent  in  spirit,  he  burned  with 
desire  to  make  confession  of  the  truth  in  the 
presence  of  that  assembly.  Without  waiting 
for  the  hour  which  had  been  fixed,  he  left  his 
abode  and  presented  himself  unexpectedly  at 
the  archbishop's  palace  between  seven  and 
eight  o'clock,  not  long  after  sunrise.  Beatoun 
was  already  at  his  task,  wishing  to  confer  with 
the  members  of  his  council  before  the  sitting. 
They  went  and  told  him  that  Hamilton  was 
come  and  was  askinor  for  him.  The  archbish- 
op  took  good  care  not  to  give  him  a  private 
interview.  The  several  heresies  of  which  Ham- 
ilton was  accused  had  been  formulated.  All 
who  took  part  in  the  affair  were  agreed  as  to 
the  heads  of  the  indictment.  Beatoun  resolved 
at  once  to  take  advantage  of  Hamilton's  eager- 
ness and  to  advance  the  sittinof.  The  arch- 
bishop  directed  the  court  to  constitute  itself: 
each  member  took  his  place  according  to  his 


400  xMAKTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

rank,  and  they  had  the  accused  before  them. 
One  of  the  members  of  the  council  was  com- 
missioned to  unfold  before  the  young  doctor 
the  long  catalogue  of  heresies  laid  to  his 
charge.  Hamilton  was  brought  in.  He  had 
expected  to  converse  with  Beatoun  in  private, 
but  he  found  himself  suddenly  before  a  tribu- 
nal of  sombre  and  inquisitorial  aspect ;  the 
lion's  jaws  were  open  before  him.  However, 
he  remained  gentle  and  calm  before  the  judges, 
although  he  knew  that  they  had  resolved  to 
take  away  his  life. 

'*  You  are  charged,"  said  the  commissioner, 
"  with  teaching  false  doctrines :  first,  that  the 
corruption  of  sin  remains  in  the  child  after 
baptism ;  second,  that  no  man  is  able  by  mere 
force  of  free  will  to  do  any  good  thing ;  third, 
that  no  one  continues  without  sins  so  long  as 
he  is  in  this  life  ;  fourth,  that  every  true  Chris- 
tian must  know  if  he  is  in  the  state  of  grace  ; 
fifth,  that  a  man  is  not  justified  by  works,  but 
by  faith  alone ;  sixth,  that  good  works  do  not 
make  a  good  man,  but  that  a  good  man  makes 
good  works  ;  seventh,  that  faith,  hope  and  char- 
ity are  so  closely  united  that  he  who  has  one 
of  these  virtues  has  also  the  others ;  eighth, 
that  it  may  be  held  that  God  is  cause  of  sin 
in  this  sense,  that  when  he  withholds  his  grace 
from  a  man  the  latter  cannot  but  sin  ;  ninth, 
that  it  is  a  devilish  doctrine  to  teach  that  remis- 


PA  TRICK  HA  MIL  TON.  4OI 

sion  of  sins  can  be  obtained  by  means  of  cer- 
tain penances ;  tenth,  that  auricular  confession 
is  not  necessary  to  salvation ;  eleventh,  that 
there  is  no  purgatory ;  twelfth,  that  the  holy 
patriarchs  were  in  heaven  before  the  passion 
of  Jesus  Christ;  and  thirteenth,  that  the  pope 
is  Antichrist,  and  that  a  priest  has  just  as  much 
power  as  a  pope." 

The  young  Reformer  of  Scotland  had  listen- 
ed attentively  to  this  long  series  of  charges, 
drawn  up  in  somewhat  scholastic  terms.  In 
the  official  indictment  of  the  priests  were  in- 
cluded some  doctrines  for  the  maintenance  of 
which  Hamilton  was  willing  to  lay  down  his 
life ;  others  which,  he  admitted,  were  fair  sub- 
jects for  discussion  ;  but  the  primate's  theolo- 
gians had,  in  their  zeal,  piled  up  all  that  they 
could  find,  true  or  false,  essential  or  accidental, 
and  had  flung  the  confused  mass  at  the  young 
man  in  order  to  crush  him.  One  of  the  clergy, 
who  had  visited  him  for  the  purpose  of  catch- 
ing him  unawares  in  some  heresy,  had  given 
out  that  the  Reformers  made  God  the  author 
of  sin.  Patrick  had  denied  it,  saying — and  this 
was  matter  of  reproach  in  the  eighth  article — 
that  a  sinner  may  get  to  such  a  pitch  of  obdu- 
racy that  God  leaves  him  because  he  will  no 
longer  hear  him.  Hamilton,  therefore,  made 
a  distinction  between  the  various  heads  of  the 
indictment.     "  I  declare,"  said  he,  "  that  I  look 

26 


402  MARTYRS    OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

on  the  first  seven  articles  as  certainly  true,  and 
I  am  ready  to  attest  them  with  a  solemn  oath. 
As  for  the  other  points,  they  are  matter  for  dis- 
cussion, but  I  cannot  pronounce  them  false  un- 
til stronger  reasons  are  given  me  for  rejecting 
them  than  any  which  I  have  yet  heard." 

The  doctors  conferred  with  Hamilton  on 
each  point,  and  the  thirteen  articles  were  then 
referred  to  the  judgment  of  a  commission  of 
divines  nominated  by  the  primate.  A  day  or 
two  later  the  commissioners  made  their  report, 
and  declared  all  the  articles,  without  exception, 
to  be  heretical.  The  primate  then,  in  order  that 
the  judgment  might  be  invested  with  special 
solemnity,  announced  that  sentence  would  be 
delivered  in  the  cathedral  on  the  last  day  of 
February  before  an  assembly  of  the  clergy, 
the  nobility  and  the  people. 

While  the  priests  were  making  ready  to  put 
to  death  one  of  the  members  of  the  illustrious 
family  of  the  Hamiltons,  some  noble-hearted 
laymen  were  preparing  to  rescue  him.  The 
men  of  Linlithgow  were  not  the  only  ones 
to  stir  in  the  matter.  John  Andrew  Duncan, 
laird  of  Airdrle — who  was  taken  prisoner  by 
the  English  at  the  battle  of  Flodden — had 
during  his  captivity  found  friends  in  Eng- 
land whom  he  gained  for  the  gospel.  On 
his  return  to  Scotland  he  had  opened  his 
house   as   an   asylum    for   the   gospelers,    and 


PATRICK  HAMILTON,  403 

had  become  intimate  with  the  Hamiltons. 
Hearing-  of  the  danger  that  beset  Patrick,  in- 
dignant at  the  conduct  of  the  bishops  and 
burning  with  desire  to  save  the  young  Re- 
former, Duncan  had  armed  his  tenants  and 
his  servants,  and  then,  marching  toward  the 
metropoHtan  city,  intended  to  enter  it  by  night 
to  carry  off  his  friend  and  conduct  him  to  Eng- 
land. But  the  archbishop's  horsemen,  warned 
of  the  enterprise,  set  out  and  surrounded 
Duncan's  feeble  troop,  disarmed  them  and 
made  Duncan  prisoner.  The  life  of  this  no- 
ble, evangelical  Christian  was  spared  at  the 
intercession  of  his  brother-in-law,  who  was  in 
command  of  the  forces  which  captured  him, 
but  he  had  once   more   to   quit  Scotland. 

This  attempt  had  been  frustrated  just  at  the 
moment  when  the  commissioners  presented 
their  report  on  the  alleged  heresies  of  Ham- 
ilton. There  was  no  longer  any  need  for  hesi- 
tation on  the  part  of  the  archbishop ;  he  there- 
fore ordered  the  arrest  of  the  young  evangelist. 
Wishing  to  prevent  any  resistance,  the  gover- 
nor of  the  castle  of  St.  Andrews,  who  was  to 
carry  out  the  order,  waited  till  night,  and  then, 
putting  himself  at  the  head  of  a  well-armed 
body  of  men,  he  silently  surrounded  the  house 
in  which  Hamilton  dwelt.  According  to  one 
historian,  he  had  already  retired  to  rest;  ac- 
cording  to    others,   he  was    in   the  society  of 


404  MARTYRS  OF  THE   ^E^ai^MATION. 

pious  and  devoted  friends  and  was  conversing 
with  them.  The  young  Reformer,  while  he 
appreciated  the  affection  and  the  eagerness 
of  his  friend  Duncan,  had  no  wish  that  force 
should  be  employed  to  save  him.  He  knew 
that  of  whatever  nature  the  war  is,  such  must 
the  weapons  be ;  that  for  a  spiritual  war  the 
weapons  must  be  spiritual ;  that  Christ's  sol- 
diers must  fight  only  with  the  sword  of  the 
holy  word.  He  remained  calm  in  the  con- 
viction that  God  disposes  all  that  befalls  his 
children  in  such  wise  that  what  the  world 
thinks  an  evil  turns  out  for  good  to  them.  At 
the  very  moment  when  the  soldiers  were  sur- 
rounding his  house  he  felt  himself  encompass- 
ed with  solid  ramparts,  knowing  that  God  mar- 
shals his  forces  around  his  people  as  if  for 
the  defence  of  a  fortress.  At  that  moment 
there  were  knocks  at  the  door:  it  was  the 
governor  of  the  castle.  Hamilton  knew  what 
it  meant.  He  rose,  went  forward  accompa- 
nied by  his  friends,  and  opening  the  door 
asked  the  governor  whom  he  wanted ;  the 
latter  having  answered,  Hamilton  said,  "  It  is 
I,"  and  gave  himself  up.  Then  pointing  to 
his  friends,  he  added,  "  You  will  allow  them 
to  retire ;"  and  he  entreated  them  not  to  make 
any  resistance  to  lawful  authority.  But  these 
ardent  Christians  could  not  bear  the  thought 
of    losing    their   friend.       "  Promise    us,"    they 


PATRICK  H-AMILTON.  405 

said  to  the  governor — ''  promise  us  to  bring 
him  back  safe  and  sound."  The  officer  only 
replied  by  taking  away  his  prisoner.  On  the 
summit  of  huge  rocks  which  rise  perpendicu- 
larly from  the  sea,  and  whose  base  is  cease- 
lessly washed  by  the  waves,  stood  at  that  time 
the  casde,  whose  picturesque  remains  serve 
still  as  a  beacon  to  the  mariner.  It  was  with- 
in the  walls  of  this  feudal  stronghold  that 
Hamilton    was    taken    and    confined. 

The  last  day  of  February  at  length  arrived, 
the  day  fixed  by  the  archbishop  for  the  sol- 
emn assembly  at  which  sentence  was  to  be 
pronounced.  The  prelate,  followed  by  a  large 
number  of  bishops,  abbots,  doctors,  heads  of 
religious  orders  and  the  twelve  commissioners, 
entered  the  cathedral,  a  building  some  centu- 
ries old,  which  was  to  be  cast  down  in  a  day 
at  a  word  from  Knox,  and  whose  magnificent 
ruins  still  astonish  the  traveler.  Beatoun  sat 
on  the  bench  of  the  inquisitorial  court,  and 
all  the  ecclesiastical  judges  took  their  places 
round  him.  Among  these  was  observed  Pat- 
rick Hepburn,  prior  of  St.  Andrews,  son  of 
the  earl  of  Bothwell,  a  worthless  and  dissolute 
man,  who  had  eleven  illegitimate  children,  and 
who  gloried  in  bringing  distress  and  dishonor 
into  families.  This  veteran  of  immorality — 
who  ought  to  have  been  on  the  culprit's  seat, 
but  whose    pride   was    greater   even   than   his 


406  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

licentiousness — took  his  place  with  a  shameless 
countenance  on  the  judges'  bench.  Not  far 
from  him  was  David  Beatoun,  abbot  of  Ar- 
broath, an  ambitious  young  man,  who  was  al- 
ready coveting  his  uncle's  dignity,  and  who, 
as  if  to  prepare  himself  for  a  long  work  of 
persecution,  vigorously  pressed  on  the  con- 
demnation of  Patrick.  In  the  midst  of  these 
hypocrites  and  fanatics  sat  one  man  in  a  state 
of  agitation  and  distress — the  prior  of  the 
Dominicans,  Alexander  Campbell — with  his 
countenance  gloomy  and  fallen.  A  great 
crowd  of  canons,  priests,  monks,  nobles,  citi- 
zens and  the  common  people  filled  the  church, 
some  of  them  greedy  for  the  spectacle  which 
was  to  be  presented  to  them,  others  sympathiz- 
ing with  Hamilton.  "  I  was  myself  present," 
said  Alesius,  "a  spectator  of  that  tragedy." 

The  tramp  of  horses  was  presently  heard : 
the  party  of  troops  sent  to  seek  Hamilton 
was  come.  The  young  evangelist  passed  into 
the  church,  and  had  to  mount  a  lofty  desk  from 
which  he  could  be  easily  seen  and  heard  by  the 
assembly.  All  eyes  were  turned  toward  him. 
"  Ah,"  said  pious  folk,  "  if  this  young  Christian 
had  been  a  worldling,  and  had  given  himself 
up,  like  the  other  lords  of  the  court,  to  a  life 
of  dissipation  and  rioting,  he  would  doubtless 
have  been  loved  by  everybody,  and  this  flower 
of   youth  which  we   now  look   on  would  have 


PATRICK  HAMILTON.  407 

blown  amidst  flatteries  and  delights.  But  be- 
cause to  his  rank  he  has  added  piety  and  virtue 
he  must  fall  under  the  blows  of  the  wicked." 

The  proceedings  began.  The  commissioners 
presented  their  report  to  the  court,  duly  signed. 
Then  Alexander  Campbell  rose,  for  the  arch- 
bishop had  charged  him  to  read  the  indictment, 
and  the  unfortunate  man  had  not  dared  to  re- 
fuse the  horrible  task.  Hamilton  was  affected 
at  seeinpf  that  man  whom  he  took  for  his  friend 
appear  as  his  accuser.  However,  he  listened 
with  calmness  to  the  address.  His  quietude, 
his  noble  simplicity,  his  frankness,  his  trust  in 
the  Lord,  impressed  every  one.  "  Truly,"  said 
Alesius,  "  no  man  ever  more  fully  realized  that 
saying,  'Trust  in  the  Lord  and  do  good.'" 

A  contest  began  between  the  prior  of  the 
Dominicans  and  the  young  Reformer.  The 
latter,  determined  to  defend  his  faith  in  the 
presence  of  that  great  assembly,  pointed  out 
the  sophistry  of  his  accusers  and  established  the 
truth  by  the  testimony  of  the  Holy  Scriptures. 
Campbell  replied,  but  Hamilton,  always  armed 
with  the  word  of  God,  rejoined,  and  his  ad- 
versary was  silenced.  Campbell,  unhappy  and 
distressed,  inwardly  convinced  of  the  doctrine 
professed  by  his  old  friend,  could  do  no  more. 
He  approached  the  tribunal  and  asked  for  In- 
structions. The  bishops  and  the  theologians, 
having  no  mind  for  a  public  debate,  directed 


408  MARTYRS   OF   THE    REFORMATION. 

Campbell  to  enumerate  with  a  loud  voice  cer- 
tain errors  which  had  not  yet  been  reduced  to 
formal  articles,  and  to  call  Hamilton  heretic. 
This  was  putting  the  poor  Dominican  to  fresh 
torture,  but  he  must  hold  on  to  the  end. 

He  turned  therefore  toward  Hamilton  and 
said  aloud,  "  Heretic !  thou  hast  said  that  all 
men  have  the  right  to  read  the  word  of  God. 
Thou  hast  said  that  it  is  against  the  divine  law 
to  worship  images.  Thou  hast  said  that  it  is 
idle  to  Invoke  the  saints  and  the  Virgin.  Thou 
hast  said  that  it  is  useless  to  celebrate  masses 
to  save  souls  from  purgatory — " 

Here  the  unfortunate  Campbell  stopped. 

*'  Purgatory  !''  exclaimed  Patrick  ;  "  nothing 
purifies  souls  but  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ." 

At  these  words  Campbell  turned  to  the  arch- 
bishop and  said,  "  My  lords,  you  hear  him ;  he 
despises  the  authority  of  our  holy  father  the 
pope."  Then,  as  if  he  meant  to  stifle  by  in- 
sults the  voice  of  the  noble  and  courageous 
Christian,  "  Heretic  !"  cried  he,  "  rebel !  detest- 
able !  execrable  !  impious  !" 

Hamilton,  turning  toward  him,  said,  in  ac- 
cents full  of  kindness,  "  My  brother,  thou  dost 
not  in  thy  very  heart  believe  what  thou  art 
saying." 

This  was  too  much.  The  word  of  tender 
reproof  pierced  like  a  dart  the  soul  of  the 
unhappy  Dominican.     To  find  himself  treated 


PATRICK  HAMILTON.  409 

with  so  much  gentleness  by  the  man  whose 
death  he  was  urging  rent  his  heart,  and  an 
accusing  cry  was  heard  in  the  depths  of  his 
soul.  Campbell  was  embarrassed  and  silenced. 
Hamilton's  charity  had  heaped  coals  of  fire  on 
his  head. 

Then  began  the  taking  of  votes.  The  mem- 
bers of  the  court  unanimously  condemning 
the  innocent  man,  the  primate  rose  and  said, 
''Chinsti  nomine  invocato.  We,  James,  by  the 
grace  of  God  archbishop  of  St.  Andrews,  pri- 
mate of  Scotland,  sitting  in  judgment  in  our 
metropolitan  church,  have  found  Patrick  Ham- 
ilton infected  with  divers  heresies  of  Martin 
Luther  which  have  been  already  condemned 
by  general  councils.  We  therefore  declare  the 
said  Hamilton  a  heretic ;  we  condemn  him,  we 
deprive  him  all  dignities,  orders  and  benefices, 
and  we  deliver  him  over  to  the  secular  arm  to 
be  punished." 

Having  thus  spoken,  the  primate  laid  on  the 
table  the  sentence  which  he  had  just  read,  and 
the  bishops,  priors,  abbots  and  doctors  present 
came  and  signed  the  document  one  by  one. 
The  primate  next,  with  the  view  of  investing 
the  act  with  more  authority,  invited  such  per- 
sons as  had  a  certain  rank  in  the  university  to 
set  their  hands  likewise  to  it.  Young  boys — 
the  earl  of  Cassilis,  for  example,  who  was  only 
thirteen — were    of   the    number.      The   priests 


4IO  MARTYRS  OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

persuaded  them  that  they  thereby  did  God  ser- 
vice, and  this  was  very  flattering  to  such  chil- 
dren. The  court  rose,  and  an  escort  of  some 
thousands  of  armed  men  conducted  Hamihon 
back  to  the  castle. 

This  numerous  escort  showed  the  fears  which 
the  clergy  entertained.  Duncan's  attempt  had 
failed,  but  Sir  James  Hamilton  was  still  at  the 
head  of  his  soldiers,  and  many  other  persons 
in  Scotland  were  interested  about  this  young 
man.  But  nothing  short  of  the  death  of  their 
victim  could  pacify  the  priests.  They  decided 
that  the  sentence  should  be  executed  the  same 
day.  The  primate  was  sure  of  the  co-opera- 
tion of  the  government.  Angus  offered  no  op- 
position to  this  iniquitous  proceeding.  Thus 
condemnation  had  hardly  been  pronounced 
when  the  executioner's  servants  were  seen  be- 
fore the  gate  of  St.  Salvator's  College  raising 
the  pile  on  which  Hamilton  was  to  be  burnt. 

While  they  were  heaping  up  the  wood  and 
driving  in  the  stake  Patrick  was  taking  his  last 
meal  in  one  of  the  rooms  of  the  castle ;  he  ate 
moderately,  as  his  custom  was,  but  without  the 
slightest  agitation  ;  his  countenance  was  perfect- 
ly serene.  He  was  going  to  meet  death  with 
good  courage,  because  it  would  admit  him  into 
his  Father's  house ;  he  hoped,  too,  that  his  mar- 
tyrdom would  be  gain  to  the  Church  of  God. 
The  hour  of  noon  struck  ;   it  was  the  time  ap- 


PATRICK  HAMILTON.  4II 

pointed  for  the  execution.  Hamilton  bade 
them  call  the  governor  of  the  castle.  That 
officer  appeared ;  he  was  deeply  affected. 
Hamilton,  without  leaving  the  table,  inquired 
of  him  whether  all  was  ready.  The  governor, 
whose  heart  was  breaking  to  see  such  inno- 
cence and  nobleness  requited  with  a  cruel 
death,  could  not  find  courage  to  pronounce  a 
single  word  which  would  point  to  the  scaffold, 
and  he  answered  with  emotion,  Dii  nieliora — 
"  God  give  you  a  better  fate  !"  Hamilton  un- 
derstood him,  got  up,  took  the  Gospels  in  one 
hand,  grasped  affectionately  with  the  other  the 
hand  of  the  sympathizing  governor,  and  went 
like  a  lamb  to  execution.  He  was  accompa- 
nied by  a  few  friends,  his  faithful  servant  fol- 
lowed and  a  numerous  guard  escorted  him. 
He  set  the  cross  of  Christ,  which  he  then  bore, 
above  all  the  delights  of  life.  His  soul  was 
full  of  a  glorious  and  solid  joy,  which  was 
worth  more  than  the  joy  of  the  world. 

He  arrived  at  the  spot.  All  was  ready — 
wood,  coal,  powder  and  other  combustible  ma- 
terials. Standing  before  the  pile,  he  uncovered 
his  head,  and,  lifting  up  his  eyes  to  heaven,  re- 
mained motionless  for  some  moments  in  prayer. 
Then  he  turned  to  his  friends  and  handed  to 
one  of  them  his  copy  of  the  Gospels.  Next, 
calling  his  servant,  he  took  off  his  cloak,  his 
coat  and  his  cap,  and  with  his  arms  stretched 


412  MARTYRS  OF   THE  REFORMATION. 

out  presented  them  to  him  and  said,  "Take 
these  garments ;  they  can  do  me  no  service  in 
the  fire,  and  they  may  still  be  of  use  to  thee. 
It  is  the  last  gift  thou  wilt  receive  from  me, 
except  the  example  of  my  death,  the  remem- 
brance of  which  I  pray  thee  to  bear  in  mind. 
Death  is  bitter  for  the  flesh,  but  it  is  the  en- 
trance into  eternal  life,  which  none  can  possess 
who  deny  Jesus  Christ." 

The  archbishop,  wishing  to  Ingratiate  him- 
self with  the  powerful  family  of  the  Hamil- 
tons,  had  ordered  some  of  his  clergy  to  offer 
the  young  Reformer  his  life  on  condition  of 
his  submitting  to  the  absolute  authority  of  the 
pope.  "No,"  replied  Hamilton,  "your  fire  will 
not  make  me  recant  the  faith  which  I  have  pro- 
fessed. Better  that  my  body  should  burn  in 
your  flames  for  having  confessed  the  Saviour 
than  that  my  soul  should  burn  in  hell  for  hav- 
ing denied  him.  I  appeal  to  God  from  the 
sentence  pronounced  against  me,  and  I  com- 
mit myself  to  his  mercy." 

The  executioners  came  to  fulfill  their  part. 
They  passed  an  Iron  chain  round  the  victim's 
body,  and  thus  fastened  him  to  the  stake  which 
rose  above  the  pile.  Conscious  that  acute  pains 
might  lead  him  to  err,  Hamilton  prayed  to  God 
that  the  flames  might  not  extort  from  him  the 
least  word  which  should  grieve  his  divine  Mas- 
ter.    "  In  the  name  of  Jesus,"  he  added,  "  I  give 


PATRICK  HAMILTON.  413 

up  my  body  to  the  fire  and  commit  my  soul  into 
the  hands  of  the  Father."  Three  times  the  pile 
was  kindled,  and  three  times  the  fire  went  out 
because  the  wood  was  green.  Suddenly  the 
powder  placed  among  the  fagots  exploded, 
and  a  piece  of  wood,  shot  against  Hamilton, 
flayed  part  of  his  body ;  but  death  w^as  not  yet 
come.  Turning  to  the  deathsman,  he  said  mild- 
ly, "  Have  you  no  dry  wood  ?"  Several  men 
hastened  to  get  some  at  the  casde.  Alexan- 
der Campbell  was  present,  struggling  with  his 
evil  conscience  and  in  a  state  of  violent  agita- 
tion, which  rose  with  his  distress  and  misery. 
The  servants  of  the  executioner  brought  some 
dry  wood  and  quickened  the  fire. 

"  Heretic,"  said  Campbell,  "  be  converted ! 
recant !  call  upon  Our  Lady ;  only  say,  Salve 
Regina!' 

"  If  thou  believest  in  the  truth  of  what  thou 
sayest,"  replied  Patrick,  "  bear  witness  to  it  by 
putting  the  tip  only  of  thy  finger  into  the  fire 
in  which  my  whole  body  is  burning." 

The  unhappy  Dominican  took  good  care  to 
do  no  such  thing.  He  began  to  insult  the 
martyr. 

Then  Hamilton  said  to  him,  "  Depart  from 
me,  messenger  of  Satan  !"  Campbell,  enraged, 
stormed  around  the  victim  like  a  roaring  lion. 
"  Submit  to  the  pope,"  he  cried ;  "  there  is  no 
salvation  but  in  union  with  him."     Patrick  was 


414         MARTYRS  OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

broken-hearted  with  grief  at  seeing  to  what  a 
pitch  of  obduracy  his  old  friend  had  come. 
"Thou  wicked  man!"  said  he  to  him,  "thou 
knowest  the  contrary  well  enough ;  thou  hast 
told  me  so  thyself." 

This  noble  victim,  then,  chained  to  the  post 
and  already  half  burnt,  feeling  himself  to  .be 
superior  to  the  wretched  man  who  was  vexing 
him,  spoke  as  a  judge,  commanded  as  a  king, 
and  said  to  the  Dominican,  "  I  appeal  thee  be- 
fore the  tribunal-seat  of  Christ  Jesus."  At 
these  words  Campbell,  ceasing  his  outcries, 
remained  mute,  and,  leaving  the  place,  fled 
affrighted  into  his  monastery.  His  mind  wan- 
dered ;  he  was  seized  with  madness ;  he  was 
like  one  possessed  by  a  demon,  and  in  a  little 
while  he  died. 

The  tenderest  affections  succeeded  these 
most  mournful  emotions  in  Hamilton's  heart. 
He  was  drawing  near  to  the  moment  of  heart- 
rending separations,  but  his  thoughts,  though 
turning  heavenward,  were  not  turned  away 
from  his  home  at  Kincavil.  He  had  cherished 
the  hope  of  becoming  a  father,  and  some  time 
afterward  his  wife  gave  birth  to  a  daughter 
who  was  named  Issobel.  She  lived  at  court 
in  later  years,  and  received  on  more  than  one 
occasion  tokens  of  the  royal  favor.  Hamilton, 
who  had  always  felt  the  tenderest  respect  for 
his  mother,  did  not  forget  her  at  the  stake,  but 


PATRICK  HAMILTON.  415 

commended  her  to  the  love  of  his  friends. 
After  his  wife  and  his  mother,  he  was  mindful 
of  his  native  place.  "  O  God,"  said  he,  "  open 
the  eyes  of  my  fellow-citizens,  that  they  may 
know  the  truth !" 

While  the  martyr's  heart  was  thus  overflow- 
ing with  love  several  of  the  wretches  who  stood 
round  him  aggravated  his  sufferings.  A  baker 
took  an  armful  of  straw  and  threw  it  into  the 
fire  to  increase  its  intensity ;  at  the  same  mo- 
ment a  gust  of  wind  from  the  sea  quickened 
the  flames,  which  rose  above  the  stake.  The 
chain  round  Patrick's  body  was  red  hot,  and 
had  by  this  time  almost  burnt  him  in  two.  One 
of  the  bystanders,  probably  a  friend  of  the 
gospel,  cried  to  him,  "  If  thou  still  holdest  true 
the  doctrine  for  which  thou  diest,  make  us  a 
sign."  Two  fingers  of  his  hand  were  con- 
sumed ;  stretching  out  his  arm,  he  raised  the 
other  three  and  held  them  motionless  in  sign 
of  his  faith.  The  torment  had  lasted  from 
noon,  and  it  was  now  nearly  six  o'clock.  Ham- 
ilton was  burnt  over  a  slow  fire.  In  the  midst 
of  the  tumult  he  was  heard  uttering  this  cry, 
"  O  God,  how  long  shall  darkness  cover  this 
realm  ?  how  long  wilt  thou  permit  the  tyranny 
of  men  to  triumph?"  The  end  was  drawing 
nigh.  The  martyr's  arm  began  to  fail ;  his 
three  fingers  fell.  He  said,  "Lord  Jesus,  re- 
ceive my  spirit."     His  head  drooped,  his  body 


4l6  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

sank  down,  and  the  flames  completed  their 
ravage  and  reduced  it  to  ashes. 

The  crowd  dispersed,  thrilled  by  this  grand 
and  mournful  sight ;  and  never  was  the  mem- 
ory of  this  young  Reformer's  death  effaced 
in  the  hearts  of  those  who  had  been  eye-wit- 
nesses of  it.  It  was  deeply  engraven  in  the 
soul  of  Alesius.  "  I  saw,"  said  he  several 
years  afterward  in  some  town  in  Germany — 
"  I  saw  in  my  native  land  the  execution  of 
a  high-born  man,  Patrick  Hamilton."  And 
he  told  the  story  in  brief  and  penetrating 
words.  ''  How  singular  was  the  fate  of  the 
two  Hamiltons !  Father  and  son  both  died 
a  violent  death :  the  former  died  the  death 
of  a  hero ;  the  latter,  that  of  a  martyr.  The 
father  had  been  in  Scotland  the  last  of  the 
kniehts  of  the  Middle  Aees ;  the  son  was  in 
same  land  the  first  of  the  soldiers  of  Christ 
in  the  new  time.  The  father  brought  honor 
to  his  family  by  winning  many  times  the  palm 
of  victory  in  tournaments  and  combats ;  the 
son,"  says  an  illustrious  man,  Theodore  Beza, 
"  ennobled  the  royal  race  of  the  Hamiltons, 
sullied  afterward  by  some  of  its  members, 
and  adorned  it  with  that  martyr's  crown  which 
is  infinitely  more  precious  than  all  kingly 
crowns." 

That  saying  of  Christian  antiquity,  "The 
blood    of    the    martyrs    is    the    seed    of    the 


PATRICK  HAMILTON.  417 

Church,"  was  perhaps  never  verified  in  a 
more  striking  manner  than  in  the  case  of 
Hamilton.  The  rumor  of  his  death,  rever- 
berating in  loud  echoes  from  the  Highlands, 
ran  over  the  whole  land.  It  was  much  the 
same  as  if  the  famous  big  cannon  of  Edin- 
burgh Castle,  Mons  Meg,  had  been,  fired  and 
the  report  had  been  re-echoed  from  the  Bor- 
ders to  Pentland  Firth.  Nothing  was  more 
likely  to  win  feudal  Scotland  to  the  Reforma- 
tion than  the  end,  at  once  so  holy  and  so  cruel, 
of  a  member  of  a  family  so  illustrious.  No- 
bles, citizens  and  the  common  people — nay, 
even  priests  and  monks — were  on  the  point 
of  being  aroused  by  this  martyrdom.  Ham- 
ilton, who  by  his  ministry  was  Reformer  of 
Scotland,  became  still  more  so  by  his  death. 
For  God's  work  a  life  long  and  laborious 
would  have  been  of  less  service  than  were 
his  trial,  condemnation  and  execution,  all  ac- 
complished on  one  day.  By  giving  up  his 
earthly  life  for  a  life  imperishable  he  announced 
the  end  of  the  religion  of  the  senses  and  began 
the  worship  in  spirit  and  in  truth.  The  pile  to 
which  the  priests  had  sent  him  became  a  throne, 
his  torture  was  a  triumph. 

People     everywhere    wanted    to    know    the 

cause   for  which  this  young  noble  had  given 

his  life,  and   every  one  took   the  side   of  the 

victim.     "Just  at   the    time  when    those   cruel 

27 


41 8  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

wolves,"  said  Knox,  "  had,  as  they  supposed, 
clean  devoured  their  prey,  a  great  crowd  sur- 
rounded them  and  demanded  of  them  an  ac- 
count for  the  blood  which  they  had  shed." 
"  The  faith  for  which  Hamilton  was  burnt," 
said  many,  ''  is  that  which  we  will  have."  In 
vain  was  it  that  the  guilty  men,  convicted  by 
their  own  consciences,  were  inflamed  with 
wrath  and  uttered  proud  threats,  for  every- 
where the  abuses  and  errors  which  up  to 
that  time  had  been  venerated  were  called  in 
question.  Such  were  the  happy  results  of 
Hamilton's  death. 


XXIX. 
GEORGE  WISHART, 

A.  D.  1544-46. 

In  the  summer  of  1544  a  pious  man,  George 
Wishart,  returned  from  England  to  Scotland. 
He  was  a  brother  of  the  laird  of  Pittarow  in 
the  county  of  Mearns.  While  at  Montrose,  in 
1538,  he  had  read  the  Greek  New  Testament 
with  several  youths  whom  he  was  educating, 
and  had  been  cited  by  the  bishop  of  Brechin 
to  appear  before  him.  Wishart  had  then  re- 
tired to  Cambridore,  and  there  he  devoted 
himself  to  study  for  six  years.  In  1544  the 
Scottish  commissioners  who  came  into  England 


GEORGE   WISHART.  419 

respecting  the*  treaty  with  Henry  VIII.  took 
him  back  with  them  to  Scotland.  He  went 
first  to  Montrose,  his  old  abode,  and  thence 
to  Dundee,  where  he  wished  to  preach  the 
word  of  God.  His  personal  appearance  was 
entirely  prepossessing.  He  was  amiable,  un- 
assuming, polite.  His  chief  delight  was  to 
learn  and  to  teach.  He  was  tall,  his  black 
hair  was  cut  short,  his  beard  was  long.  His 
physiognomy  was  indicative  of  a  somewhat 
melancholy  temperament.  He  wore  a  French 
cap  of  the  best  material,  a  gown  which  fell  to 
his  heels,  and  a  black  doublet.  There  was 
about  his  whole  person  an  air  of  decorum  and 
grace.  He  spoke  with  modesty  and  with  great 
seriousness.  He  slept  on  straw,  and  his  char- 
ity had  no  end,  night  or  day.  He  loved  all 
men.  He  gave  gifts,  consolation,  assistance  ; 
he  was  studious  of  all  means  of  doing  good 
to  all  and  hurt  to  none.  He  distributed  pe- 
riodically among  the  poor  various  articles  of 
clothing,  always  "  saving  his  French  cap,  which 
he  kept  the  whole  year  of  my  being  with  him," 
says  the  Cambridge  student  who  drew  this 
portrait  of  Wishart  just  before  the  latter  set . 
out  for  Scotland. 

Wishart's  reputation  having  preceded  him, 
a  multitude  of  hearers  gathered  about  him  at 
Dundee.  He  expounded  in  a  connected  series 
of  discourses  the  doctrine  of  salvation  accord- 


420  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

ing  to  the  Epistle  to  the  Rotnans,  and  his 
knowledge  and  eloquence  excited  general  ad- 
miration. But  the  priests  declared  everywhere 
that  if  he  were  allowed  to  go  on,  the  Roman 
system  must  inevitably  fall  to  the  ground. 
They  therefore  sought  the  assistance  of  an 
influential  layman,  Robert  Mill,  who  had  once 
professed  the  truth,  but  had  since  forsaken  it. 
One  day,  just  as  Wishart  was  finishing  his  dis- 
course, Mill  rose  in  the  church  and  forbade  him 
in  the  queen's  name  and  the  regent's  to  trou- 
ble them  any  more.  Wishart  was  silent  for 
a  while,  with  his  eyes  turned  heavenward,  and 
then,  looking  sorrowfully  on  the  assembly,  he 
said,  "  God  is  witness  that  I  never  minded  [in- 
tended] you  trouble,  but  your  comfort.  But  I 
am  assured  that  to  refuse  God's  word  and  to 
chase  from  you  his  messenger  shall  not  pre- 
serve you  from  trouble,  but  shall  bring  you 
into  it.  I  have  offered  unto  you  the  word  of 
salvation,  and  with  the  hazard  of  my  life  I  have 
remained  among  you.  But  and  [if]  trouble 
unlooked  for  apprehend  you,  turn  to  God,  for 
he  is  merciful.  But  if  ye  turn  not  at  the  first, 
he  will  visit  you  with  fire  and  sword."  When 
he  had  thus  spoken  he  came  down  from  the 
pulpit  and  went  away  at  once  into  the  western 
part  of  Scotland. 

Having  arrived  at  Ayr,  he  preached  there  to 
large  numbers  of  people,  who  gladly  received 


GEORGE   W I  SMART.  42 1 

his  words.  Dunbar,  bishop  of  Glasgow,  as 
soon  as  he  was  informed  of  it,  hastened  to  the 
town  with  a  body  of  men  and  took  possession 
of  the  church  in  order  to  prevent  Wishart  from 
preaching.  The  Reformer's  friends  were  indig- 
nant at  this  step.  The  earl  of  Glencairn,  the 
laird  of  Loch  Norris  and  several  gentlemen  of 
Kyle  went  to  Wishart  and  offered  to  get  pos- 
session of  the  church  and  to  place  him  in  the 
pulpit.  "  No,"  said  the  evangelist  wisely,  "  the 
bishop's  sermon  will  not  much  hurt :  let  us  go 
to  the  market-cross."  They  did  so,  and  he 
there  preached  with  so  much  energy  and  ani- 
mation that  some  of  his  hearers,  who  were 
enemies  of  the  truth  till  that  day,  received  it 
gladly.  Meanwhile,  the  bishop  was  in  the 
church  with  a  very  small  audience.  There 
was  hardly  any  one  to  hear  him  but  some 
vestry  attendants  and  some  poor  dependants. 
They  were  expecting  a  sermon,  but  he  had 
forgotten  to  put  one  in  his  pocket.  He  made 
them  the  best  excuse  he  could.  "  Hold  us  still 
for  your  bishop,"  he  said,  "and  we  shall  pro- 
vide better  the  next  time."  He  then  with 
haste  departed  from  the  town,  not  a  little 
ashamed  of  his  enterprise. 

Wishart  persevered  in  his  work,  and  his  rep- 
utation spread  all  around.  The  men  of  Mauch- 
lin  came  and  asked  him  to  preach  the  gospel 
to   them   on   the   following    Sunday.       But  the 


422  MARTYRS  OF  THE   REFORMATION. 

sheriff  of  Ayr  heard  of  it,  and  sent  a  body  of 
men  in  the  night  to  post  themselves  about  the 
church.  "  We  will  enter  by  force,"  said  Hugh 
Campbell  to  Wishart. — "  Brother,"  replied  the 
evangelist,  "  it  is  the  word  of  peace  which  God 
sends  by  me  ;  the  blood  of  no  man  shall  be 
shed  this  day  for  the  preaching  of  it.  I  find 
that  Christ  Jesus  oftener  preached  in  the  des- 
ert, at  the  seaside,  and  other  places  judged 
profane,  than  he  did  in  the  temple  of  Jerusa- 
lem." He  then  withdrew  to  the  country,  say- 
ing to  the  people  who  followed  him  that  the 
Saviour  was  "as  potent  upon  the  fields  as  in 
the  kirk."  He  climbed  up  a  dike  raised  on 
the  edge  of  the  moorland,  and  there,  in  the 
fair  warm  day,  preached  for  more  than  three 
hours.  One  man  present,  Lawrence  Ranken, 
laird  of  Shield,  who  had  previously  led  a  wick- 
ed life,  was  impressed  by  what  he  heard.  "  The 
tears  ran  from  his  eyes  in  such  abundance  that 
all  men  wondered."  Converted  by  that  dis- 
course, the  laird  of  Shield  gave  evidence  in 
his  whole  after-life  that  his  conversion  was 
genuine.  Wishart  preached  with  like  success 
in  the  whole  district.  The  harvest  was  great, 
says  one  historian. 

The  Reformer  heard  on  a  sudden  that  the 
plague  had  broken  out  at  Dundee  four  days 
after  he  left  the  town,  and  that  it  was  raging 
cruelly.      He  resolved   instantly  to   go    there. 


GEORGE   WISH  ART.  423 

"They  are  now  In  trouble  and  they  need  com- 
fort," he  said  to  those  who  would  fain  hold 
him  back :  "  perchance  this  hand  of  God  will 
make  them  now  to  magnify  and  reverence 
that  word  which  before,  for  the  fear  of  men, 
they  set  at  light  part." 

He  reached  Dundee  in  August,  1544,  and 
announced  the  same  morning  that  he  would 
preach.  It  was  necessary  to  keep  apart  the 
plague-stricken  from  those  who  were  in  health, 
and  for  that  purpose  he  took  his  station  at 
the  east  gate  of  the  town.  Those  who  were 
in  health  had  their  place  within  the  city,  and 
those  who  were  sick  remained  without.  Such 
a  distribution  of  an  audience  was  surely  never 
seen  before.  Wishart  opened  the  Bible  and 
read  these  words :  "  He  sent  his  word  and 
healed  them"  (Ps.  cvii.  20).  "The  mercy  of 
God,"  said  he,  "  is  prompt  to  fall  on  all  such 
as  truly  turn  to  him,  and  the  malice  of  men 
can  neither  eik  nor  pair  [add  to  nor  diminish] 
his  gentle  visitation." — "We  do  not  fear  death," 
said  some  of  his  hearers  ;  "  nay,  we  judge  them 
more  happy  that  should  depart  than  such  as 
should  remain  behind."  That  east  gate  of 
Dundee  (Cowgate)  was  left  standing  In  mem- 
ory of  Wishart  when  the  town-walls  were  taken 
down  at  the  close  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and 
it  is  still  carefully  preserved. 

Wishart  was  not  satisfied  with  speech  alone  ; 


424  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

he  personally  visited  the  sick,  fearlessly  expos- 
ing himself  to  infection  in  the  most  extreme 
cases.  He  took  care  that  the  sick  should  have 
what  they  needed,  and  the  poor  were  as  well 
provided  for  as  the  rich.  The  town  was  in 
great  distress  lest  the  mouth  from  which  so 
much  sweetness  flowed  should  be  closed. 

Nevertheless,  at  the  cardinal's  instigation,  says 
Knox,  a  priest  named  Wighton  took  a  sword, 
and,  concealing  it  under  his  gown,  mixed  with 
the  crowd  as  if  he  were  a  mere  hearer,  and 
stood  waiting  at  the  foot  of  the  steps  by  which 
Wishart  must  come  down.  The  discourse  was 
finished,  the  people  dispersed.  Wishart,  whose 
glance  was  keen  and  whose  judgment  was  swift, 
noticed  as  he  came  down  the  steps  a  priest  who 
kept  his  hand  under  his  gown,  and  as  soon  as 
he  came  near  him  he  said,  "  My  friend,  what 
would  ye  do  ?"  At  the  same  moment  he  laid 
hold  of  the  priest's  hand  and  snatched  the 
weapon  from  him.  The  assassin  fell  at  his 
feet  and  confessed  his  fault.  Swiftly  ran  the 
report  that  a  priest  had  attempted  to  kill  the 
Reformer,  and  the  sick  who  heard  it  turned 
back  and  cried,  "  Deliver  the  traitor  to  us,  or 
else  we  will  take  him  by  force."  And  so  in- 
deed they  rushed  on  him.  But  Wishart  put 
his  arms  around  the  assassin.  "  Whosoever 
troubles  him,"  said  he,  "  shall  trouble  me,  for  he 
has  hurt  me  in  nothing."     His  friends,  however, 


GEORGE   WISH  ART.  425 

insisted  that  for  the  future  one  of  them  in  arms 
should  accompany  him  whithersoever  he  went. 

When  the  plague  had  ceased  at  Dundee, 
Wishart  thought  that,  as  God  had  put  an  end 
to  that  battle,  he  called  him  to  another.  It 
was  indeed  proposed  that  he  should  hold  a 
public  disputation.  He  inquired  of  the  bish- 
ops where  he  should  be  heard.  But  first  he 
went  to  Montrose  "  to  salute  the  kirk  there," 
and,  although  sometimes  preaching  the  gospel, 
he  was  "  most  part  in  secret  meditation,  in  the 
which  he  was  so  earnest  that  night  and  day 
he  would  continue  in  it." 

While  there  he  received  a  letter  purporting 
to  be  written  by  his  friend  the  laird  of  Kyn- 
neir,  who,  being  sick,  desired  him  to  come  to 
him.  It  was  a  trick  of  the  cardinal.  Sixty 
armed  horsemen  were  lying  in  wait  behind  a 
hill  to  take  him  prisoner.  He  set  out  unsus- 
pecting, but  when  he  had  gone  some  distance 
he  suddenly  stopped  in  the  midst  of  the  friends 
who  were  accompanying  him  and  seemed  ab- 
sorbed in  deep  musing.  Then  he  turned  and 
went  back.  "  What  mean  you  ?"  said  his  friends, 
wondering. — "  I  will  go  no  farther,"  he  replied  ; 
"  I  am  forbidden  of  God.  I  am  assured  there 
is  treason."  Pointing  to  the  hill,  he  added, 
'*  Let  some  of  you  go  to  yon  place  and  tell 
me  what  they  find."  These  brave  men  re- 
ported   with    all    speed   what    they    saw.       "  I 


426  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION, 

know,"  said  he,  "that  I  shall  end  my  life  in 
that  bloodthirsty  man's  hands,  but  it  will  not 
be  of  this  manner." 

Shortly  after   he   set  out   for   Edinburgh,  in 
spite  of   the   entreaties   of   the  laird  of   Dun- 
dee, and  went  to  lodge  at  Innergowrie  at  the 
house  of  a  Christian  man  named  James  Wat- 
son.    A  little  after  midnight  two  men  of  good 
credit  who  were  in  the  house,  William  Spald- 
ing and  John  Watson,  heard  him  open  his  door 
and  go  down  stairs.     They  followed  him  secret- 
ly, and  saw  him  go  into  the  garden  and  walk 
for  some  time  up  and  down  an  alley.     Wish- 
art,  persuaded    that   he  was    drawing    near  to 
his  end,  and  thinking  of  the  horrors  of  mar- 
tyrdom and  of  his  own  weakness,  was  greatly 
agitated,  and  felt  the  need  of  calling  upon  God 
that  he  might  not  fail  in  the  midst  of  the  con- 
flict.    He  was  heard  sighing  and  groaning,  and 
just  as  day  began  to  dawn  he  was  seen  to  fall 
on  his  knees,  and  afterward  on  his  face.     For 
a  whole  hour  his  two  friends    heard  confused 
sounds    of    his    prayer,    interrupted    now   and 
then   by  his    tears.     At   length   he   seemed   to 
grow  quiet  and  to  have  found  rest  for  his  soul. 
He  rose  and  went  quietly  back  to  his  chamber. 
In  the  morning  his  anxious  friends  began  to  ask 
him  where  he  had  been.     He  evaded  the  ques- 
tion.    "  Be   plain  with  us,"  they  said,  "  for  we 
heard  your  groans ;  yea,  we  heard  your  mourn- 


GEORGE   WISH  ART.  427 

Ing,  and  saw  you  both  upon  your  knees  and 
upon  your  face." — "  I  had  rather  ye  had  been 
in  your  beds,"  said  he,  "  for  I  was  scarce  well 
occupied."  And,  as  they  urged  him,  he  spoke 
to  them  of  his  approaching  death  and  of  his 
need  of  God's  help.  They  were  much  sad- 
dened and  wept. 

Wishart  said  to  them,  "  God  shall  send  you 
comfort  after  me.  This  realm  shall  be  illumi- 
nated with  the  light  of  Christ's  evangel  as 
clearly  as  ever  was  any  realm  since  the  days 
of  the  apostles.  The  house  of  God  shall  be 
built  into  it :  yea,  it  shall  not  want,  whatsoever 
the  enemy  imagine  to  the  contrary,  the  very 
cape-stone  "  [top-stone] — meaning,  adds  Knox, 
that  the  house  of  God  should  there  be  brought 
to  full  perfection.  Wishart  went  on  :  ''  Neither 
shall  this  be  long  to  ;  there  shall  not  many  suf- 
fer after  me  till  that  the  glory  of  God  shall  evi- 
dently appear  and  shall  once  triumph  in  de- 
spite of  Satan.  But,  alas !  if  the  people  shall 
be  afterward  unthankful,  then  fearful  and  ter- 
rible shall  the  plagues  be  that  after  shall  fol- 
low." Wishart  soon  after  went  into  the  Lo- 
thians — i,  e,  into  the  shires  of  Linlithgow,  Edin- 
burgh and  Haddington. 

A  man  like  Wishart  assuredly  belongs  to  the 
history  of  the  Reformation.  But  there  is  an- 
other motive  leading  us  to  narrate  these  cir- 
cumstances.    The  great  Reformer  of  Scotland 


428  MARTYRS  OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

was  trained  in  the  school  of  Wishart.  Among 
those  who  followed  the  latter  from  place  to 
place  as  he  preached  the  gospel  was  John 
Knox.  He  had  left  St.  Andrews  because  he 
could  not  endure  either  the  superstition  of 
the  Romish  system  or  the  cardinal's  despot- 
ism, and,  having  betaken  himself  to  the  south 
of  Scotland,  he  had  been  for  some  time  tutor 
in  the  family  of  Douglas  of  Langniddrie.  He 
had  openly  professed  the  evangelical  doctrine, 
and  the  clergy  in  their  wrath  had  declared  him 
a  heretic  and  deprived  him  of  the  priesthood. 
Knox,  attracted  by  the  preaching  and  the  life 
of  Wishart,  attached  himself  to  him  and  became 
his  beloved  disciple.  In  addition  to  his  public 
discourses,  to  which  he  listened  with  eager  at- 
tention, he  received  also  instruction  in  private. 
He  undertook  for  Wishart  a  duty  which  was 
full  of  danger,  but  which  he  discharged  joyful- 
ly. During  Wishart's  evangelical  excursions 
he  kept  watch  for  the  safety  of  his  person,  and 
bore  the  sword  which  his  friends  had  provided 
after  the  attempt  of  the  Dundee  priest  to  as- 
sassinate him.  Knox  was  soon  to  bear  another 
sword,  the  sword  of  the  Spirit,  like  his  master. 

The  earl  of  Cassllis  and  some  other  friends 
of  Wishart  had  appointed  to  meet  him  at  Leith, 
and  as  that  town  is  very  near  Edinburgh,  they 
had  advised  him  not  to  show  himself  until  their 
arrival.     After  awaiting  them  for  a  day  or  two 


GEORGE   WISH  ART.  429 

he  fell  Into  a  deep  melancholy.     "What  differ 
I  from  a  dead  man,"  said  he,  "  except  that  I  eat 
and  drink  ?     To   this   time   God  has  used  my 
labors  to  the  disclosing  of  darkness,  and  now  I 
lurk  as  a  man  that  is  ashamed  and  durst  not 
show  himself  before  men." — "You  know,"  said 
his  friends,  "  the  danger  wherein  you  stand." — 
"  Let  my  God,"  he  replied,  "  provide  for  me  as 
best  pleases  him."     On  the  following  Sunday, 
fifteen  days  before  Christmas,  he  preached  on 
the  parable  of  the  Sower.     From  Leith  he  went 
to  Brownston,  Langniddrie  and  Ormiston,  and 
preached    on    the    Sunday  both    morning   and 
afternoon  at  Inveresk  to  a  large  concourse  of 
people.     Two  Franciscan  friars  came  and  stood 
by  the  church-door  and  whispered   something 
to  those  who  were  going  in,  to  turn  them  back. 
Wishart,  observing  this,  said  to  some  who  were 
near  the  pulpit,  "  I  heartily  pray  you  to  make 
room  to  these  two  men ;  it  may  be  that  they 
be  come  to  learn."    Then  addressing  the  monks, 
he  said,  "  Come  near,  for  I  assure  you  ye  shall 
hear  the  word  of  verity,  which  shall  either  seal 
unto  you  this  same  day  your  salvation  or  your 
condemnation."     He    continued    his   discourse, 
but  the  friars,  who  had  'taken  up  their  places, 
did   not    cease  whispering   right  and    left  and 
troubling  all   that  stood   near  them.     Wishart 
turned  sharply  to  them  and  said,  "  O  sergeants 
of  Satan  and  deceivers  of  the  souls  of  men  ' 


430  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

will  ye  neither  hear  God's  truth  nor  suffer  oth- 
ers to  hear  it  ?  Depart,  and  take  this  for  your 
portion :  God  shall  shordy  confound  and  dis- 
close your  hypocrisy  within  this  realm  ;  ye  shall 
be  abominable  unto  men,  and  your  places  and 
habitations  shall  be  desolate."  He  then  re- 
sumed his  sermon,  and  preached  with  so  much 
power  that  Sir  George  Douglas,  brother  of  the 
earl  of  Angus,  who  was  present  at  the  meeting, 
said  publicly  after  the  sermon,  "  I  know  that  my 
lord  governor  and  my  lord  cardinal  shall  hear 
that  I  have  been  at  this  preaching  [for  they 
were  then  in  Edinburgh].  Say  unto  them  that 
I  will  avow  it,  and  will  not  only  maintain  the 
doctrine  that  I  have  heard,  but  also  the  person 
of  the  teacher,  to  the  uttermost  of  my  power." 
Those  who  were  present  gready  rejoiced  at 
these  words,  spoken  by  so  influential  a  man. 
As  for  Wishart,  it  was  enough  for  him  to  know 
that  God  keeps  his  own  people  for  the  end  to 
which  he  calls  them.  He  preached  in  other 
places  to  large  numbers,  and  with  all  the  more 
fervor  for  his  persuasion  and  assertion  that  the 
day  of  his  death  was  at  hand. 

After  Christmas  he  passed  into  Haddington- 
shire. The  cardinal,  hearing  of  his  purpose, 
had  informed  the  earl  of  Bothwell,  who  imme- 
diately let  it  be  known,  both  in  the  town  and  in 
the  country,  that  no  one  was  to  go  and  hear 
the  heretic,  under  pain  of  his  displeasure.     The 


GEORGE   WISHART.  43 1 

prohibition  of  this  powerful  lord  had  its  effect. 
The  first  day  there  was  a  large  gathering  to 
hear  Wishart,  but  the  next  day  his  audience 
was  very  small.  A  new  trial  now  came  to 
ai^ict  him.  His  friends  in  Western  Scotland 
had  promised  to  come  to  Edinburgh  to  discuss 
with  him  the  means  of  advancing  the  cause  of 
the  gospel.  Now  on  the  third  day  after  his 
arrival  in  Haddingtonshire,  when  he  had  al- 
ready entered  the  church  and  was  about  to  go 
into  the  pulpit,  a  messenger  approached  and 
handed  him  a  letter.  He  opened  it.  His 
friends  at  Ayr  and  other  places  wrote  to  tell 
him  that  certain  obstacles  prevented  them  from 
fulfilling  their  promises.  Struck  with  sorrow, 
"  he  called  for  John  Knox,  who  had  waited 
upon  him  carefully  from  the  time  he  came  to 
Lothian."  "  I  am  wearied  of  the  world,"  said 
he,  "  for  I  perceive  that  men  begin  to  be  weary 
of  God."  Knox  wondered  that  Wishart  should 
enter  into  conversation  with  him  before  ser- 
mon, which  he  was  never  accustomed  to  do, 
and  said  to  him,  "  Sir,  the  time  of  sermon  ap- 
proaches ;  I  will  leave  you  for  the  present  to 
your  meditations."  He  then  took  the  letter 
and  withdrew. 

Wishart,  left  to  himself,  began  to  walk  about 
slowly  at  the  back  of  the  high  altar.  He  paced 
to  and  fro,  sadness  depicted  on  his  countenance, 
and  everything  about  him  revealing  the  deep 


432  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

grief  that  was  in  his  soul.  This  lasted  about 
half  an  hour.  At  length  he  passed  into  the 
pulpit.  The  audience  was  small,  as  it  had  been 
the  day  before.  He  had  not  power  to  treat  the 
subject  which  he  had  proposed :  his  heart  was 
too  full,  and  he  must  needs  unburden  it  before 
God.  ''  O  Lord,"  said  he,  "  how  lonor  shall  it  be 
that  thy  holy  word  shall  be  despised  and  men 
shall  not  regard  their  own  salvation  ? — I  have 
heard  of  thee,  Haddington,  that  in  thee  would 
have  been  at  a  vain  clerk-play  two  or  three 
thousand  people,  and  now  to  hear  the  messen- 
ger of  the  eternal  God  of  all  the  town  or  par- 
ish cannot  be  numbered  one  hundred  persons. 
Sore  and  fearful  shall  the  plagues  be  that  shall 
ensue  this  thy  contempt ;  with  fire  and  sword 
shalt  thou  be  plagued.  And  that  because  ye 
have  not  known  nor  will  not  know  the  time 
of  God's  merciful  visitation."  After  saying 
these  words  he  made  a  short  paraphrase  of 
the  second  table  of  the  law.  He  exhorted  to 
patience,  to  the  fear  of  God  and  to  works  of 
mercy;  and,  impressed  by  the  presentiment 
that  this  was  the  last  time  he  should  publicly 
preach,  he  made  (so  to  speak)  his  last  testa- 
ment, declaring  that  the  spirit  of  truth  and 
judgment  were  both  in  his  heart  and  on  his 
lips. 

He  quitted  the  church,  bade  farewell  to  his 
friends,  and  then  prepared  to  leave  the  town. 


GEORGE   WISH  ART.  433 

"  I  will  not  leave  you  alone,"  said  Knox  to  him. 
But  Wishart,  who  had  his  approaching  end  con- 
stantly before  his  eyes,  said,  "  Nay,  return  to 
your  bairns  [his  pupils],  and  God  bless  you  ! 
One  is  sufficient  for  a  sacrifice."  He  then  com- 
pelled Knox  to  give  up  the  sword,  and  parted 
with  him.  The  laird  of  Ormiston,  who  was  at 
the  time  with  Wishart,  had  invited  him  to  his 
house  in  the  country.  They  set  out  on  their 
journey  with  several  gentlemen  of  the  neigh- 
borhood. The  cold  was  severe,  and  they  there- 
fore traveled  on  foot.  While  at  supper  Wish- 
art spoke  of  the  death  of  God's  children. 
Then  he  said  with  a  cheerful  smile,  "  Methinks 
that  I  desire  earnestly  to  sleep.  We'll  sing  a 
psalm."  He  chose  Psalm  li.,  and  struck  up  the 
tune  himself:  "  Have  mercy  upon  me,  O  God, 
according  to  thy  loving-kindness."  As  soon  as 
the  psalm  was  ended  he  went  to  his  chamber 
and  to  bed. 

A  little  before  midnight  a  troop  of  armed 
men  silently  approached,  surrounded  the  house 
that  no  one  might  escape,  and  demanded  Wish- 
art. But  neither  promises  nor  threats  could 
induce  Ormiston  to  deliver  up  his  guest.  They 
then  went  for  the  earl  of  Bothwell,  the  most 
powerful  lord  of  that  region.  Bothwell  came 
and  said  to  the  laird,  "  It  is  but  vain  to  make 
him  to  hold  his  house,  for  the  governor  andthe 
cardinal  with  all  their  power  are  coming.     But 

28 


434  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

and  if  you  will  deliver  the  man  unto  me  I  will 
promise  upon  my  honor  that  he  shall  be  safe 
and  sound,  and  that  it  shall  pass  the  power  of 
the  cardinal  to  do  him  any  harm  or  scathe." 
Ormiston,  confiding  in  this  promise,  told  Wish- 
art  what  had  occurred.  "  Open  the  gates," 
replied  he,  immediately ;  ''  the  blessed  will  of 
my  God  be  done  !"  Bothwell  entered,  with  sev- 
eral gentlemen  who  accompanied  him.  Wish- 
art  said  to  him,  "  I  praise  my  God  that  so 
honorable  a  man  as  you,  my  lord,  receives  me 
this  night  in  the  presence  of  these  noblemen, 
for  now  I  am  assured  that,  for  your  honor's 
sake,  ye  will  suffer  nothing  to  be  done  unto 
me  besides  the  order  of  law."  The  earl  re- 
plied, "  I  shall  preserve  your  body  from  all  vio- 
lence, neither  shall  the  governor  nor  cardinal 
have  their  will  over  you  ;  but  I  shall  retain  you 
in  my  own  hands  till  that  either  I  shall  make 
you  free  or  else  restore  you  in  the  same  place 
where  I  receive  you." 

Immediately  after  giving  this  promise  the 
earl  set  out  with  Wishart  for  Elphinstone.  The 
cardinal,  bent  on  getting  possession  of  Wishart's 
friends,  sent  five  hundred  horsemen  to  Ormis- 
ton to  seize  the  laird,  together  with  the  lairds 
of  Brownston  and  Calder.  Brownston  fled 
through  the  woods,  but  the  other  two  were 
carried  off  to  Edinburgh  Casde.  Wishart  was 
removed  to  the  strong  castle  of  Hailes  on  the 


GEORGE   WISHART.  435 

banks  of  the  Tyne,  the  principal  mansion  of 
Bothwell  in  the  Lothians. 

That  did  not  satisfy  the  cardinal,  who  want- 
ed Wishart  more  than  all.  The  queen-mother, 
Mary  of  Guise,  who  was  not  on  friendly  terms 
with  Bothwell,  promised  him  her  support  if  he 
would  give  up  the  evangelist.  The  cardinal, 
on  his  part,  "  gave  gold,  and  that  largely." 
''  Gold  and  women  have  corrupted  all  worldly 
and  fleshly  men  from  the  beginning,"  says  Knox. 
The  earl  raised  some  objections,  "  but  an  effem- 
inate man,"  adds  Knox,  "cannot  long  withstand 
the  assaults  of  a  gracious  queen."  Wishart  was 
first  taken  to  Edinburgh  Casde,  and  at  the  end 
of  January,  1546,  the  regent  gave  him  up  to  the 
cardinal,  who  confined  him  at  St.  Andrews  in 
the  sea-tower.  The  assistance  of  a  civil  judge 
was,  it  seems,  necessary  to  give  validity  to  the 
judgment.  The  cardinal  requested  one  of 
Arran,  but  one  of  the  regent's  councilors, 
Hamilton  of  Preston,  said  to  him,  "  What ! 
will  you  deliver  up  to  wicked  men  those  whose 
uprightness  .is  acknowledged  even  by  their  ene- 
mies ?  Will  you  put  to  death  those  who  are 
guilty  of  no  more  crime  than  that  of  preach- 
ing the  gospel  of  Christ?  What  ingratitude 
toward  God  !" 

The  regent  consequently  wrote  to  the  car- 
dinal that  he  would  not  consent  that  any  hurt 
should  be  done  to  that  man  without  a  careful 


43^  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

investigation  of  his  cause.  The  cardinal,  on 
receiving  this  letter,  flew  into  a  violent  passion. 
"  It  was  only  for  civility's  sake,"  said  he,  "  that 
I  made  the  request.  I  and  my  clergy  have  the 
power  in  ourselves  to  inflict  on  Wishart  the 
chastisement  which  he  deserves."  He  invited 
the  archbishop  of  Glasgow  and  all  bishops  and 
other  dienitaries  of  the  Church  to  assemble  at 
St.  Andrews  on  Febuary  27  to  consult  on  the 
matter,  although  it  was  already  decided  in  his 
own  mind. 

The  next  day  the  dean  of  St.  Andrews  went 
to  the  prison  where  Wishart  was  confined,  and 
summoned  him  in  the  cardinal's  name  to  appear 
before  the  judges  on  the  morrow.  "What 
needed,"  replied  the  prisoner,  "  my  lord  car- 
dinal to  summon  me  to  answer  for  my  doc- 
trine openly  before  him,  under  whose  power 
and  dominion  I  am  thus  straitly  bound  in 
Irons?  May  not  my  lord  compel  me  to  an- 
swer to  his  extorted  power?"  On  March  i 
the  cardinal  ordered  all  the  household  ser- 
vants of  his  palace  to  put  themselves  under 
arms.  The  civil  power.  It  Is  remembered,  had 
refused  to  take  part  in  the  proceedings,  and 
therefore  Beatoun  took  Its  place.  His  men  at 
once  equipped  themselves  with  lances,  swords, 
axes,  knapsacks  and  other  warlike  array.  It 
might  have  been  thought  that  some  military 
action  was   In   hand,   rather  than    a   gathering 


GEORGE   WISH  ART.  437 

of  priests  who  assumed  to  busy  themselves 
about  God's  Church.  These  armed  champions, 
putting  themselves  in  marching  order,  first  es- 
corted the  bishops  with  great  ceremony  to  the 
abbey  church,  and  then  went  for  WIshart.  The 
governor  of  the  castle  put  himself  at  the  head 
of  the  band,  and  so  they  led  the  prisoner  "  like 
a  lamb  to  sacrifice."  As  he  entered  the  door 
of  the  abbey  church  he  threw  his  purse  to  a 
poor  Infirm  man  lying  there,  and  at  length  he 
stood  in  the  presence  of  the  numerous  and 
brilliant  assembly.  To  invest  the  proceed- 
ings with  due  formality,  Beatoun  had  caused 
two  platforms  to  be  erected  facing  each  other. 
WIshart  was  set  on  one  of  them,  and  the  ac- 
cuser, Lauder,  took  his  place  on  the  other. 
The  dean,  Winryme,  then  appeared  in  the 
pulpit.  This  worthy  churchman,  who  was 
charged  to  deliver  the  customary  sermon,  was 
secretly  a  friend  to  the  gospel.  He  read  the 
parable  of  the  Good  Seed  and  the  Tares  (Matt, 
xill.  24—30),  and  set  forth  various  pious  consid- 
erations which  told  more  against  the  judges 
than  against  the  accused,  and  which  the  latter 
heard  with  pleasure.  Winryme  concluded,  how- 
ever, by  saying  that  the  tares  were  heresy,  and 
that  heretics  ought  to  be  put  down  In  this  life 
by  the  civil  magistrate  ;  yet  in  the  passage  he 
was  treating  stood  the  words,  "  Let  both  grow 
together  until    the   harvest."      It    remained   to 


438  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

ascertain  which  were  heretics,  the  judges  or 
the  accused. 

When  the  sermon  was  ended  the  bishops 
ordered  Wishart  to  stand  up  on  his  platform 
to  hear  the  accusation.  Then  arose  the  accuser, 
John  Lauder,  a  priest  whom  the  chronicler  calls 
a  monster,  and,  facing  Wishart,  unrolled  a  long 
paper  full  of  threatenings  and  devilish  maledic- 
tions, and,  addressing  the  guiltless  evangelist 
in  cruel  words,  hurled  pitilessly  at  him  all  the 
thunders  of  the  papacy.  The  ignorant  crowd 
who  heard  him  expected  to  see  the  earth  open 
and  swallow  the  unhappy  Reformer ;  but  he 
remained  quiet,  and  listened  with  great  pa- 
tience and  without  a  change  of  countenance 
to  the  violent  accusations  of  his  adversary. 
When  Lauder  had  finished  reading  at  the  top 
of  his  voice  the  threatening  indictment,  he 
turned  to  Wishart,  his  face  "all  running  down 
with  sweat,"  says  the  chronicler,  "and,  froth- 
ing at  the  mouth  like  a  boar,  he  spat  at  Mas- 
ter George's  face,  saying,  '  What  answerest 
thou  to  these  sayings,  thou  renegade,  traitor 
and  thief,  which  we  have  duly  proved  by  suf- 
ficient witness  ao^ainst  thee  ?'  " 

Wishart  knelt  down  and  prayed  for  the  help 
of  God.  Then  rising,  he  made  answer  with 
all  sweetness :  "  My  lords,  I  pray  you  quietly 
to  hear  me,  so  that  instead  of  condemning  me 
unjustly,  to  the  great  peril  of  your  souls,  you 


GEORGE   WISH  ART.  439 

may  know  that  I  have  taught  the  pure  word 
of  God,  and  that  you  may  receive  it  yourselves 
as  the  source  from  which  health  and  life  shall 
spring  forth  for  you.  In  Dundee  I  taught  the 
Epistle  of  St.  Paul  to  the  Romans,  and  shall 
show  your  discretions  faithfully  what  fashion 
and  manner  I  used  when  I  taught,  without  any 
human  dread — " 

At  these  words  the  accuser  interrupted  him, 
and  cried  with  all  his  might,  "  Thou  heretic,  rene- 
o-ade,  traitor,  and  thief!  it  was  not  lawful  for 
thee  to  preach,  and  we  forethink  that  thou 
hast  been   a   preacher   too   long." 

Then  all  the  prelates,  terrified  at  the  thought 
that  he  was  going  to  set  before  that  vast  audi- 
ence the  very  substance  and  pith  of  his  teach- 
ing, said  one  to  another,  "  He  is  so  crafty,  and 
in  Holy  Scripture  so  exercised,  that  he  will 
persuade  the  people  to  his  own  opinion  and 
raise  them  against  us."  Wishart,  perceiving 
that  he  had  no  chance  of  a  fair  hearinor  before 
that  ecclesiastical  court,  said,  ''  I  appeal  from 
my  lord  cardinal  to  my  lord  the  governor." — 
*'What!"  replied  Lauder,  "is  not  my  lord  car- 
dinal the  second  person  within  this  realm,  chan- 
cellor of  Scotland,  archbishop  of  St.  Andrews, 
bishop  of  Mirepoix  [in  Languedoc],  commen- 
dator  of  Arbroath,  legattis  natus,  legatus  a  la- 
tere?'' He  recited  so  many  tides,  says  the 
chronicler,   that  you   might    have    laden  a  ship 


440  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

with  them,  much  sooner  an  ass.  "  Whom  de- 
sirest  thou   to  be  thy  judge?"   cried  Lauder. 

Wishart  repHed  with  meekness,  "  I  refuse  not 
my  lord  cardinal,  but  I  desire  the  word  of  God 
to  be  my  judge,  and  the  temporal  estate,  with 
some  of  your  lordships,  mine  auditory,  because 
I  am  here  my  lord  governor's  prisoner."  But 
the  priests  mocked  him,  saying,  "  Such  man  ! 
such  judge  !"  According  to  them,  the  laymen 
who  might  have  been  appointed  his  judges 
were    heretics    also,    like    him. 

The  cardinal,  without  further  delay,  was  going 
to  have  sentence  of  condemnation  passed,  but 
some  who  stood  by  counseled  him  to  read  the 
articles  of  accusation  and  to  permit  Wishart  to 
answer  to  them,  in  order  that  the  people  might 
not  be  able  to  say  that  he  was  condemned  with- 
out a  hearing. 

Lauder  therefore  began:  "Thou,  false  here- 
tic, renegade,  traitor  and  thief,  deceiver  of  the 
people,  despisest  the  holy  Church's,  and  in  like 
case  contemnest  my  lord  governor's,  authority; 
for  when  thou  preachedst  in  Dundee,  and  wert 
charged  by  my  lord  governor's  authority  to  de- 
sist, thou  wouldst  not  obey,  but  perseveredst  in 
the  same.  Therefore  the  bishop  of  Brechin 
cursed  thee,  and  delivered  thee  into  the  hands 
of  the  devil,  and  gave  thee  in  commandment 
that  thou  shouldst  preach  no  more ;  yet  not- 
withstanding thou  didst  continue  obstinately." 


GEORGE  WISH  ART.  44 1 

Wisha7H.  My  lords,  I  have  read  in  the  Acts 
of  the  Apostles  that  it  is  not  lawful,"  for  the 
threatenings  and  menaces  of  men,  to  desist 
from    the    preaching   of  the    evangel. 

Lauder.  Thou,  false  heretic,  didst  say  that 
a  priest  standing  at  the  altar  saying  mass  was 
like  a  fox  wagging  his  tail  in  July. 

Wis  hart.  My  lords,  I  said  not  so.  These 
were  my  sayings :  The  moving  of  the  body 
outward,  without  the  inward  moving  of  the 
heart,  is  naught  else  but  the  playing  of  an 
ape,   and   not  the   true   serving  of   God. 

Lauder.  Thou  false  heretic,  traitor  and  thief! 
thou  saidst  that  the  sacrament  of  the  altar  was 
but  a  piece  of  bread  baken  upon  the  ashes. 

Wishart.  I  once  chanced  to  meet  with  a  Jew 
when  I  was  sailing  upon  the  water  of  the  Rhine. 
By  prophecies  and  many  other  testimonies  of 
the  Scriptures  I  approved  that  the  Messiah  was 
come,  the  which  they  called  Jesus  of  Nazareth. 
He  answered,  ''  You  adore  and  worship  a  piece 
of  bread  baken  upon  the  ashes,  and  say  that  is 
your  God."  I  have  rehearsed  here  but  the  say- 
ings of  the  Jew,  which  I  never  affirmed  to  be 
true. 

At  these  words  the  bishops  shook  their  heads, 
spitting  on  the  ground  and  crying  out,  and  show- 
ed in  all  ways  that  they  would  not  hear  him. 

Lauder.  Thou,  false  heretic  and  renegade, 
hast  said   that  every  layman   is   a   priest,   and 


442  MAJ^TVRS   OF   THE   REFORMATJON. 

that  the  pope  hath  no  more  power  than  an- 
other man. 

Wishart.  I  have  read  In  some  places  of  St. 
John  and  St.  Peter,  of  the  which  one  sayeth, 
"  He  hath  made  us  kings  and  priests  ;"  the 
other  sayeth,  '*  He  hath  made  us  the  kingly 
priesthood."  Wherefore  I  have  affirmed  any 
man,  being  cunning  and  perfect  in  the  word 
of  God  and  the  true  faith  of  Jesus  Christ,  to 
have  his  power  given  him  of  God.  And  again 
I  say,  any  unlearned  man,  and  not  exercised  in 
the  word  of  God  nor  yet  constant  in  his  faith, 
whatsoever  estate  or  order  he  be  of,  hath  no 
power  to  bind  nor  to  loose. 

These  words  greatly  amused  the  assembly ; 
the  reverends  and  the  most  reverends  burst 
out  laughing,  mocking  Wishart  and  calling  him 
an  imbecile.  The  notion  that  a  layman  should 
have  a  power  which  the  Holy  Father  had  not 
seemed  to  them  the  very  height  of  madness. 
"Laugh  ye,  my  lords  ?"  said  the  messenger  of 
Christ.  "  Though  that  these  my  sayings  appear 
scornful  and  worthy  of  derision  to  your  lord- 
ships, nevertheless  they  are  very  weighty  unto 
me  and  of  great  value,  because  they  stand  not 
only  upon  my  life,  but  also  the  honor  and  glory 
of  God." 

Some  pious  men  wdio  were  in  the  assembly 
were  indignant  at  the  madness  of  the  prelates 
and  affected  by  the  invincible  patience  of  Wish- 


GEORGE    WISH  ART.  443 

art.  But  others  cried  aloud,  "Wherefore  let 
we  him  speak  any  further?"  A  man  named 
John  Scot,  who  stood  behind  Lauder,  said  to 
him,  "Tarry  not  upon  his  witty  and  godly 
answers,  for  we  may  not  abide  them,  no  more 
nor  the  devil  may  abide  the  sign  of  the  cross 
when  it  is  named."  There  was  no  due  form  of 
trial  nor  any  freedom  of  discussion,  says  Bu- 
chanan, but  a  great  din  of  voices,  shouts  of 
disapprobation  and  hateful  speeches.  The  ac- 
cuser thundered  from  his  platform,  but  that  was 
all.  The  bishops  unanimously  pronounced  that 
the  pious  Wishart  must  be  burnt. 

Falling  on  his  knees,  Wishart  prayed  and 
said,  "  O  immortal  God,  how  long  shalt  thou 
suffer  the  wodness  [madness]  and  great  cruel- 
ty of  the  ungodly  to  exercise  their  fury  upon 
thy  servants  which  do  further  thy  word  in  this 
world  ?  O  Lord,  we  know  surely  that  thy  true 
servants  must  needs  suffer  persecution  for  thy 
name's  sake,  affliction  and  troubles  in  this  pres- 
ent life,  which  is  but  a  shadow ;  but  yet  we  de- 
sire thee,  merciful  Father,  that  thou  defend  thy 
congregation  which  thou  hast  chosen  before  the 
beginning  of  the  world." 

The  sentence  must  be  pronounced,  but  the 
bishops  were  afraid  to  pronounce  it  before  the 
people.  They  therefore  gave  orders  to  have 
the  church  cleared ;  and  this  could  only  be  done 
slowly,  as  many  of  the  people  who  had  a  wish 


444  MARTYRS   OF   THE    REFORMATION. 

to  hear  Wishart  were  removed  with  difficulty. 
At  length,  when  the  prelates  and  their  col- 
leagues found  themselves  almost  alone,  sen- 
tence of  death  was  passed  on  Wishart,  and  the 
cardinal  ordered  his  guards  to  take  him  back 
to  the  castle.  Confined  in  the  governor's  room, 
he  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  night  in  pray- 
er. The  next  morning  the  bishops  sent  to  him 
two  friars,  who  asked  him  if  he  did  not  want  a 
confessor.  *'  I  will  make  no  confession  unto 
you,"  he  answered:  *' go  and  fetch  me  yonder 
man  that  preached  yesterday,  and  I  will  make 
my  confession  unto  him."  When  Winryme 
was  come  they  talked  together  for  some  time. 
Then  the  dean  said,  ''  Have  you  a  wish  to  re- 
ceive the  sacrament  of  the  Supper?" — "As- 
suredly," replied  Wishart,  "  if  it  be  adminis- 
tered according  to  the  institution  of  the  Lord, 
with  the  bread  and  the  wine."  Winryme  then 
went  to  the  cardinal  and  declared  to  him  that 
the  man  was  innocent.  Beatoun,  inflamed  with 
anger,  said,  "And  you!  we  have  long  known 
what  you  are."  .Winryme  having  inquired  if 
he  might  give  the  sacrament  to  the  prisoner, 
"  No,"  replied  the  cardinal ;  "  it  is  not  fitting  to 
grant  any  of  the  benefits  of  the  Church  to  a 
heretic." 

The  next  morning  at  nine  o'clock  the  gov- 
ernor of  the  castle  informed  Wishart  that  the 
communion    was    refused    him.      Then,    as    he 


GEORGE   WISH  ART.  445 

was  going-  to  breakfast  with  his  dependants 
and  servants,  he  invited  Wishart  to  join  them 
at  the  meal.  "  Right  wilhngly,"  he  answered, 
"  especially  because  I  know  that  you  and  yours 
are  good  men  and  are  united  with  me  in  the 
same  body  of  Christ." 

When  the  table  was  spread  and  the  mem- 
bers of  the  household  had  taken  their  places, 
Wishart  said  to  the  governor,  "  Give  me  leave, 
for  the  Saviour's  sake,  to  make  a  brief  exhor- 
tation." 

It  was  to  him  an  opportunity  of  celebrating 
the  true  Supper.  He  reminded  his  hearers  of 
the  institution  of  the  sacred  feast  and  of  the 
Lord's  death.  He  exhorted  those  who  sat  at 
table  with  him  to  lay  aside  all  hatred,  to  love 
one  another  and  to  lead  a  holy  life.  After  this 
he  gave  thanks,  and  then  took  the  bread  and 
brake  it,  and  gave  of  it  to  such  as  he  knew 
were  willing  to  communicate,  and  bade  them 
feed  spiritually  on  Christ.  Taking  a  cup,  he 
spoke  of  the  blood  shed  for  the  remission  of 
sins,  driank  of  it  and  gave  them  to  drink.  *'  I 
shall  no  more  drink  of  this  cup,"  said  he,  "  no 
more  eat  of  this  bread  in  this  life ;  a  bitterer 
draught  is  reserved  for  me  because  I  have 
preached  Christ.  Pray  that  I  may  take  that 
cup  with  patience  as  the  Lord's  appointment." 
He  concluded  with  further  giving  of  thanks, 
and  then  retired  to  his  chamber. 


44^  MARTYRS  OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

On  a  plot  of  ground  to  the  west  of  the  cas- 
tle, and  not  far  from  the  priory,  men  were  al- 
ready busily  engaged,  some  in  preparing  the 
pile,  others  erecting  the  gallows.  The  place 
of  execution  was  surrounded  by  soldiers,  and 
the  gunners  had  their  cannon  in  position  and 
stood  beside  them  ready  to  fire.  One  would 
have  thought  that  preparations  were  making 
for  a  siege.  The  cardinal  had  ordered  these 
measures,  fearing  lest  Wishart's  many  friends 
should  take  him  away,  and  perhaps  still  more 
for  the  sake  of  making  a  display  of  his  own 
power.  Meanwhile  the  windows  in  the  castle- 
yard  were  adorned  with  hangings,  silken  dra- 
peries and  velvet  cushions,  that  the  cardinal 
and  the  prelates  might  enjoy  at  their  ease  the 
spectacle  of  the  pile  and  of  the  tortures  which 
they  were  going  to  inflict  on  that  righteous 
man. 

When  all  was  ready  two  of  the  deathsmen 
entered  Wishart's  prison.  One  of  them  brought 
and  put  on  him  a  coat  of  black  cloth ;  the  oth- 
er tied  small  bags  of  powder  to  various  parts 
of  his  body.  Next  they  bound  his  hands  firmly 
behind  him,  put  a  rope  round  his  neck  and  a 
chain  about  his  waist,  and  led  him  forth  in  the 
midst  of  a  party  of  soldiers.  When  he  came 
to  the  pile  he  knelt  down  and  prayed.  Then 
he  rose  and  said  to  the  people,  "  Christian 
brethren   and   sisters,   be   not  offended    in   the 


GEORGE   WISH  ART.  447 

word  of  God  for  the  affliction  and  torments 
which  ye  see  already  prepared  for  me ;  but  I 
exhort  you  that  you  love  the  word  of  God,  and 
suffer  patiently  and  with  a  comfortable  heart 
for  the  word's  sake,  which  is  your  undoubted 
salvation  and  everlasting  comfort.  My  doc- 
trine was  no  old  wives'  fable  after  the  constitu- 
tions made  by  men.  But  for  the  true  evangely, 
which  was  given  to  me  by  the  grace  of  God,  I 
suffer  this  day  by  men — not  sorrowfully,  but  with 
a  glad  heart  and  mind.  For  this  cause  I  was 
sent,  that  I  should  suffer  this  fire  for  Christ's 
sake.  This  grim  fire  I  fear  not.  Some  have 
said  of  me  that  I  taught  that  the '  soul  of  man 
should  sleep  until  the  last  day.  But  I  know 
surely,  and  my  faith  is  such,  that  my  soul  shall 
sup  with  my  Saviour  Christ  this  night  (ere  it 
be  six  hours),  for  whom  I  suffer  this." 

Then  he  prayed,  "  I  beseech  thee,  Father 
of  heaven,  to  forgive  them  that  have  of  any 
ignorance  or  else  have  of  any  evil  mind  forged 
any  lies  upon  me :  I  forgive  them  with  all  my 
heart.  I  beseech  Christ  to  forgive  them  that 
have  condemned  me  to  death  this  day  igno- 
rantly." 

The  hangman  fell  on  his  knees  before  him 
and  said,  "  I  pray  you  forgive  me." — "  Come 
hither  to  me,"  replied  Wishart ;  and  he  kissed 
him,  and  added,  "  Lo,  here  is  a  token  that  I 
forgive  thee  from  my  heart.     Do  thine  office." 


44^  MAI^TYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

He  was  then  bound  with  ropes  to  the  stake, 
and  said,  "  Saviour  of  the  world,  have  mercy 
on  me  !  Father  of  heaven,  into  thy  hands  I 
commit  my  spirit." 

The  executioner  lio^hted  the  fire.  The  car- 
dinal  and  his  accompHces  beheld  from  the  win- 
dows the  martyr  and  the  fire  which  was  con- 
suming him.  The  governor  of  the  castle, 
watching  the  frames,  exclaimed,  "Take  cour- 
age!" Wishart  answered,  "This  fire  torments 
my  body,  but  no  ways  abates  my  spirit."  Then, 
catching  sight  of  the  cardinal  at  the  window 
with  his  courtiers,  he  added,  "  He  who  in  such 
state,  from  that  high  place,  feedeth  his  eyes 
with  my  torments,  within  few  days  shall  be 
hanged  out  at  the  same  window,  to  be  seen 
with  as  much  ignominy  as  he  now  leaneth 
there  in  pride." 

Some  authors  consider  these  words,  report- 
ed by  Buchanan,  to  be  an  instance  of  that 
second-sight  with  which  they  allege  the  Scots 
to  be  endowed.  Wishart,  however,  did  not 
need  an  extraordinary  revelation  to  teach  him 
that  "  the  wicked  goeth  away  in  his  wicked- 
ness." He  had  hardly  uttered  these  words 
when  the  rope  was  tightened  about  his  neck, 
so  that  he  lost  the  power  of  speaking.  The 
fire  reduced  his  body  to  ashes,  and  the  bishops, 
full  of  steadfast  hatred  of  this  servant  of  God, 
caused  an  order  to  be  published  that  same  even- 


GILES    TI EL  MANS.  449 

ing  through  all  the  town  that  no  one  should  pray 
for  their  victim  under  the  severest  penalties. 
They  knew  what  respect  was  felt  for  him  by 
many  even  of  the  Catholics  themselves. 

There  are  people  who  say  that  religion  is  a 
fable.  A  hfe  and  a  death  such  as  those  of 
Wishart  show  that  it  is  a  great  reality. 

The  prophecy  of  this  martyr  was  soon  after 
strangely  fulfilled  in  the  murder  of  Cardinal 
Beatoun,  when  some  men,  on  the  demand  of 
his  partisans  for  his  body,  took  it  up,  and,  bear- 
ing it  to  the  very  window  at  which  a  little  while 
before  Beatoun  had  sat  to  contemplate  with 
gladness,  and  as  if  in  triumph,  the  execution 
of  the  pious  Wishart,  exposed  it  there  to  the 
gaze  of  all.  Beatoun's  friends  and  the  popu- 
lace, struck  with  amazement  and  terror  by  the 
unexpected  sight,  and  remembering  Wishart's 
prediction,  dispersed  in  gloom  and  consterna- 
tion. 

XXX. 
GILES  TIELMANS, 

A.  D.  1541-44. 

Giles  Tielmans,  a  native  of  Brussels,  was 
not  "of  a  rich  family  nor  of  great  renown," 
but  he  had  acquired  by  his  virtues  a  higher 
esteem,  even  on  the  part  of  the  enemies  of 
pure    doctrine.      Giles    had    never  wronged  a 

29 


450  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

single  creature,  and  he  had  always  made  it 
his  aim  to  give  pleasure  to  everybody.  He 
was  now  thirty-three  years  of  age,  and  no  one 
had  ever  had  a  complaint  against  him.  If  he 
encountered  opposition  he  would  give  way. 
He  would  rather  relinquish  his  rights  than 
quarrel  about  them,  in  order  that  he  might  in 
this  life  maintain  peace  and  charity.  This 
Christian  man  fulfilled,  both  in  the  letter  and 
in  the  spirit,  the  commandment  of  his  Master: 
"  If  any  man  will  take  thy  coat,  let  him  have 
thy  cloak  also."  He  had  been  endowed  by 
God  with  a  good  disposition,  but  "  having  be- 
gun to  taste  in  his  youth  the  heavenly  wisdom 
drawn  from  the  sacred  writings,  this  natural 
goodness  had  improved  to  an  incredible  de- 
gree." His  look  was  sweet  and  modest,  his 
deportment  amiable,  and  everything  about  him 
revealed  a  soul  holy  and  born  for  heaven, 
dwelling  in  a  pure  and  chaste  tabernacle.  He 
spent  the  greater  part  of  his  time  in  visiting 
the  sick,  in  relieving  the  poor  and  in  making 
peace  between  any  of  his  neighbors  who  might 
be  at  variance  with  each  other.  Tielmans  used 
to  say  that  it  was  a  disgraceful  thing  to  pass 
one's  life  in  idleness.  In  order  to  avoid  this,  to 
earn  his  living  by  his  own  labor  and  to  have 
something  to  give  to  the  poor,  he  had  followed 
the  trade  of  a  cutler.  He  lived  in  a  very  hum- 
ble way,  spending  hardly  anything  on  himself, 


GILES   TIE L MANS.  45  I 

but  distributing  among  the  needy  the  fruits  of 
his  toil,  which  God  greatly  blessed.  "  He  had 
thus  won  the  love  of  the  people."  "All  good 
men  were  fond  of  talking  with  him ;  all  listened 
to  him,  and  all  gave  up  their  property  at  his 
bidding."  But  if  any  one  made  him  a  present, 
"  he  accepted  it  only  for  the  purpose  of  reliev- 
ing some  poor  person  known  to  him."  He  had 
at  Brussels  his  baker,  his  shoemaker,  his  tailor 
and  his  apothecary.  Of  the  first  he  took  bread 
for  the  hungry ;  of  the  second,  shoes  for  the 
barefooted ;  of  the  third,  garments  to  cover  the 
naked  in  winter;  and  of  the  fourth,  medicines 
to  cure  the  sick.  The  physician  he  paid  out  of 
his  own  purse. 

His  principal  aim  was  to  become  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  doctrines  of  the  gospel.  He 
therefore  read  the  Scriptures  diligently  and 
meditated  on  them  deeply.  With  so  much  fer- 
vor did  he  put  forth  all  the  energies  of  his  soul 
in  prayer  that  "oftentimes  his  friends  found  him 
on  his  knees,  praying  and  in  a  kind  of  rapture." 
He  was  a  hard  worker.  He  read  all  the  best 
books  which  were  written  on  the  doctrine  of 
salvation,  but  especially  the  Holy  Scriptures ; 
and  when  he  explained  the  Christian  faith  it 
was  with  so  much  eloquence  that  people  ex- 
claimed, "  O  pearl  of  great  price !  why  art 
thou  still  buried  in  darkness,  whilst  thou  ought- 
est  to  be  kept  in  the  sight  and  knowledge  of 


452  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

all  the  world,  esteemed  and  prized  by  every 
one  ?" 

In  1 541  an  epidemic  raged.  Famine  ac- 
companied it.  "  The  republic  was  in  great 
distress,  and  many  poor  people  were  in  very 
great  trouble."  Tielmans  sold  his  goods  by  auc- 
tion, and  they  fetched  a  large  sum.  From  this 
time  not  a  day  passed  but  he  went  into  the  pub- 
lic institutions  in  which  the  plague-stricken  were 
treated.  He  gave  them  what  they  were  in  want 
of,  and  served  them  with  his  own  hands.  He 
went  to  the  inns  where  strangers  were  enter- 
tained, and  he  removed  the  sick  into  his  own 
house,  nursed  and  fed  them.  When  they  had 
recovered  their  health  he  gave  them  the  means 
of  pursuing  their  journey.  One  day  he  visit- 
ed a  poor  woman  who  was  near  her  confine- 
ment. She  had  already  five  children,  who  slept 
with  her  every  night.  He  immediately  return- 
ed to  his  house,  sent  her  his  own  bed,  the  only 
one  which  remained  in  his  possession,  and  slept 
himself  on  straw. 

He  was  physician  not  only  to  the  bodies  of 
men,  but  also  to  their  souls.  He  came  to  the 
bedside  of  sick  persons  and  taught  them  to 
know  the  Saviour.  With  great  power  he  said 
to  them,  "  Trust  not  in  your  own  works.  The 
mercy  of  God  alone  can  save  you,  and  this  is 
to  be  laid  hold  of  by  faith  in  Christ.  So  vast 
was  the  extent  of  sin  that  divine  justice  could 


GILES  TIELMANS.  453 

be  appeased  only  by  the  sacrifice  of  the  Son 
of  God.  At  the  same  time,  the  love  of  God 
toward  man  was  so  unspeakable  that  he  sent 
his  Son  into  the  world  from  the  hidden  place 
of  his  abode  to  cleanse  men  from  sin  by  his 
own  blood  and  to  make  us  inheritors  of  his 
heavenly  kingdom."  So  energetic  were  the 
words  of  Tielmans  that  many  of  those  "  who 
lay  upon  their  deathbeds  attacked  by  the  pest- 
ilence, in  distress  and  consternation  and  a  prey 
to  all  the  horrors  which  follow  in  its  train,  seem- 
ed to  recover  life,  and,  casting  away  all  phari- 
saical  opinions  and  all  trust  in  their  own  de- 
servings,  embraced  the  doctrine  of  the  Saviour 
and  passed  joyfully  to  their  heavenly  home." 
Those  who  escaped  the  contagion,  having  been 
brought  by  the  word  to  the  knowledge  of  the 
truth,  were  scattered  about  in  the  neighboring 
towns,  and  sowed  there  what  they  had  learnt 
of  it ;  so  that  by  these  means  "  religion  had 
been  restored  in  its  purity  in  the  whole  of 
Brabant." 

Such  was  the  life  of  Giles  Tielmans.  In  him 
faith  and  works  were  admirably  united.  This 
case  is  one  of  the  fruits  of  the  Reformation 
which  it  is  worth  while  to  know. 

The  priest  of  La  Chapelle,  William  Guene, 
and  his  band,  were  determined  to  have  the  life 
of  Giles. 

On  January  2  2d  the  sergeants  who  were  to 


454  MARTYRS  OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

take  him  into  a  prison  where  torture  was  appHed 
came  for  him.  It  was  before  daylight,  at  five 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  because  they  feared  the 
people.  When  Giles  heard  that  they  were  ask- 
ing for  him,  he  came,  and,  seeing  them  all  shiv- 
ering (it  was  very  cold  weather),  he  made  them 
go  into  the  kitchen  and  lighted  a  fire  for  them. 
While  they  were  warming  themselves  he  ran  to 
a  friend,  a  Spaniard,  who  was  in  bed.  "The 
sergeants  are  come,"  he  said,  "  to  take  me 
away  to  death  or  to  some  crueler  fate." 

Tielmans  was  put  to  the  torture,  and  on  Jan- 
uary 25th  he  was  condemned  to  be  burnt.  On 
the  27th  six  hundred  men  were  put  under  arms 
and  escorted  him  to  the  place.  A  vast  pile  was 
erected  there.  "  There  is  no  need  of  so  much 
wood,"  said  he,  "for  burning  this  poor  body. 
You  would  have  done  better  to  show  pity  for 
the  poor  people  who  are  dying  of  cold  in  this 
town,  and  to  distribute  to  them  what  there  is 
to  spare."  They  intended  to  strangle  him  first, 
to  mitigate  the  punishment.  "  No,"  said  he  to 
those  who  wished  to  grant  him  this  kindness, 
"  do  not  take  the  trouble.  I  am  not  afraid  of 
the  fire ;  I  will  willingly  endure  for  the  glory  of 
the  Lord."  He  was  prepared  to  face  the  suf- 
ferings which  Justus  had  so  much  dreaded. 
He  prayed,  and  entered  a  little  hut  of  wood 
and  straw  constructed  on  the  pile.  Then, 
taking    off  his    shoes,  he    said,   "  There  is    no 


JUSTUS  VAN  OUSBERGHEN.  455 

need  for  these  to  be  burnt;  give  them  to 
some  poor  man."  He  knelt  down,  and,  the 
executioners  having  set  fire  to  the  pile,  the 
kind-hearted  man  was  consumed  and  his  ashes 
were  flung  into  the  river. 

The  people  openly  murmured  against  the 
monks,  and  from  this  time  began  to  hate  them. 
When  they  came  to  the  houses  of  the  towns- 
men to  ask  alms,  the  people  used  to  answer, 
"  Giles  was  burnt  for  having  distributed  all  his 
property  among  the  poor ;  as  for  us,  we  will 
give  you  nothing,  for  fear  of  being  likewise 
put  to  death." 


XXXI. 
JUSTUS   VAN  OUSBERGHEN, 

A.  D.  1544. 

There  was  one  man  more  of  note,  and  this 
was  Justus  van  Ousberghen,  next  to  Tielmans 
the  most  devoted  evangelist.  No  one  had 
more  zeal,  no  one  more  courage,  as  a  preacher 
of  the  gospel.  There  was,  however,  one  thing 
of  which  he  was  afraid,  and  that  was  the  stake. 
Heretics  were  condemned  to  the  flames,  and 
the  thought  of  being  burnt,  perhaps  burnt  over 
a  slow  fire,  caused  him  unheard-of  uneasiness 
and  pain.  And  assuredly  many  might  be  un- 
easy at  less.     Nevertheless,  he  lost  no  oppor- 


45 6  MARTYRS  OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

tunity  of  proclaiming  the  gospel.  He  was  not 
at  Louvain  at  the  time  of  the  persecutions  of 
March,  but  was  then  in  an  abbey  about  two 
leagues  from  the  town,  where  he  was  at  work. 
The  poor  man  had  sore  trials  to  bear.  His 
wife  was  a  scold.  Some  time  before  the  scenes 
of  March,  1543,  Justus  had  been  absent  from 
Louvain  three  or  four  months,  no  doubt  for 
the  purpose  of  making  known  the  gospel,  at 
the  same  time  that  he  was  working  for  his 
livelihood. 

When  he  returned  home  his  wife,  **  instead 
of  bidding  him  welcome,  received  him  in  a 
shameful  manner."  "  People  have  been  to  ar- 
rest you,"  she  said  to  him ;  and  she  refused  to 
admit  him  into  their  dwelling.  Justus,  notwith- 
standing his  zeal,  was  a  man  of  feeble  charac- 
ter, and  his  wife  ruled  over  him.  He  did  not 
enter  his  house.  Turned  into  the  street  and 
exhausted  with  fatigue,  he  questioned  with  him- 
self whither  he  should  go.  The  heavens  were 
black  and  the  rain  was  falling  in  torrents.  He 
betook  himself  to  the  bachelor  of  arts,  Gosseau, 
and  requested  him  to  give  him  a  bed  for  a  sin- 
gle night.  "  I  promise  you  I  will  go  away  to- 
morrow morning,"  he  said.  The  Gosseaus  with 
pleasure  complied  with  his  request.  "  You  are 
quite  chilly  from  the  rain,"  they  said;  "first 
warm  yourself  by  the  fire."  The  poor  man 
dried  himself,  and  then  took  a  litde  food.     "  God 


JUSTUS  VAN  OUSBERGHEN.  45/ 

be  praised,"  said  he,  "  for  all  my  miseries,  and 
for  giving  me  strength  to  rise  above  them  !" 
Shortly  after  the  terrible  night  of  March, 
Justus,  as  we  have  mentioned,  was  at  an  abbey 
two  leagues  from  Louvain,  where  he  was  em- 
ployed "  in  trimming  with  fur  the  frocks  of  the 
monks,"  for  he  was  a  furrier  by  trade.  He 
had  established  himself  at  the  entrance  to  the 
monastery,  and  was  doing  his  work  without  a 
thought  of  impending  danger.  Suddenly  the 
drossard  of  Brabant  made  his  appearance,  with 
a  great  number  of  archers.  The  drossard  was 
an  officer  of  justice  whose  business  was  to  pun- 
ish the  excesses  committed  by  vagrants.  As 
the  pious  Van  Ousberghen  used  to  travel  from 
place  to  place  to  get  work,  the  magistrate  had 
affected  to  consider  him  not  as  a  heretic — this 
would  have  been  honoring  him  too  much — but 
as  a  vagrant.  "At  once  all  the  archers,"  he 
related,  "  fell  upon  me  as  a  troop  of  ravenous 
wolves  fall  upon  a  sheep,  and  they  instantly 
seized  my  skins  and  trade  implements."  The 
wolves,  however,  did  not  content  themselves 
with  the  skins ;  they  seized  the  man  and  care- 
fully searched  him.  Ousberghen  made  no  re- 
sistance. They  found  on  him  a  New  Testa- 
ment and  some  sermons  of  Luther,  "  which  he 
always  carried  in  his  bosom."  The  archers 
were  delighted  with  these  discoveries.  "  Here," 
they    said,    pointing    to    the    books — ''here   is 


458  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

enough  to  convict  him."  They  hastily  bound 
him  and  took  him  to  Brussels,  and  there  he 
was  confined  in  the  house  of  the  drossard. 
The  monks  who  had  assembled  were  amazed 
at  the  scene  of  violence  which  was  presented 
at  their  own  gates.  They  had  had  no  suspicion 
that  a  man  who  decorated  their  garments  kept 
such  heretical  books  in  his  pocket. 

The  next  day  two  councilors  of  the  chan- 
cery of  Brabant  appeared  to  conduct  his  ex- 
amination. ''  We  shall  have  you  put  to  the 
torture,"  they  said,  "  if  you  do  not  speak  the 
truth." — "  I  will  speak  it  till  death,"  he  answer- 
ed, "and  I  shall  need  no  torture  to  compel 
me."  They  asked  him  what  he  thought  of  the 
pope,  of  purgatory,  of  the  mass,  of  indulgences. 
"  I  believe,"  said  he,  "  that  salvation  is  given 
of  God  of  his  perfectly  free  goodness ;"  and 
he  confirmed  his  faith  by  the  words  of  Holy 
Scripture.  —  "Why,"  resumed  the  commission- 
ers, "  have  you  these  books  about  you,  since  it 
is  not  your  calling  to  read  ?" — "  It  is  my  call- 
ing to  read  what  is  necessary  for  my  salva- 
tion," he  replied.  "  The  redemption  announced 
in  the  New  Testament  belongs  to  me  no  less 
than  to  the  great  doctors,  or  even  the  great 
princes  of  the  world." — "  But  these  books  are 
heredcal." — "I  hold  them  to  be  Christian  and 
salutary."  The  Reformation  was  and  always 
will  be  the  most  powerful  means  of  diffusing 


JUSTUS  VAN  OUSBERGHEN.  459 

Instruction.  Rome  said  to  the  people,  '*  It  is 
not  your  business  to  read."  And  the  people, 
instructed  by  the  Reformation,  answered,  "It 
is  our  business  to  read  that  which  saves  us." 

The  examination  continued.  "  Discover  to 
us  your  accomplices,  heretical  like  yourself," 
said  the  councilors. — "  I  know  no  other  her- 
etics," replied  Justus,  "  but  the  persecutors  of 
the  heavenly  doctrine."  This  word  "  persecu- 
tors "  suddenly  enraged  the  commissioners. 
"  You  blaspheme,"  they  exclaimed.  "  If  you 
do  not  acknowledge  that  you  lie,  we  will  make 
you  undergo  such  torments  as  man  has  never 
yet  suffered  ;  we  will  tear  you  limb  from  limb 
with  a  hot  iron." — "  The  drossard  saw  with  his 
own  eyes  the  monks  of  the  convent  where  I 
was  seized  and  which  I  attended,"  replied  he ; 
''  if  you  wish  to  have  them  taken,  do  so  at 
your  own  good  pleasure." 

Thereupon  Justus  was  conducted  to  the  pris- 
on of  La  Vrunte,  into  a  lofty  chamber  railed  in 
and  barred,  in  which  he  was  left  for  nine  weeks 
without  seeing  any  one.  Terrible  were  the  as- 
saults which  he  suffered  in  his  own  soul.  Left 
without  any  human  support,  and  no  longer  feel- 
ing in  himself  the  same  energy,  the  snares  of 
the  enemy,  the  remembrance  of  his  sins,  the 
image  of  a  cruel  death  by  burning,  astounded 
and  made  him  tremble.  "  Pray  with  me,"  he 
said   to    another   prisoner ;    "  entreat   that  the 


460  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

mercy  of  God  may  keep  me  in  the  article  of 
death,  and  that  I  may  happily  reach  the  end 
of  this  Christian  warfare."  New  strength  was 
indeed  given  him. 

On  the  day  of  the  departure  of  Charles  V., 
who  had  stayed  some  time  at  Brussels,  Justus 
was  brought  before  the  court  (January  3,  1544). 
The  commissioners  read  to  him  the  confession 
made  before  them.  "  Do  you  acknowledge  it?" 
they  said.  He  answered  that  he  did.  "  But," 
he  added,  "  you  have  suppressed  the  testimo- 
nies of  the  Holy  Scriptures  by  which  I  confirm- 
ed it." — "  Since  you  acknowledge  this  confes- 
sion," said  the  councilors,  "we  summon  you  to 
retract  it ;  otherwise  you  will  be  tormented 
with  unheard-of  pains  and  burnt  alive." — "  You 
may  make  use  of  force,"  he  answered,  "  but  you 
cannot  compel  me  to  this  iniquity." — "  We  give 
you  till  to-morrow  to  consider  it."  As  he  was 
re-entering  his  prison,  tied  and  bound,  Giles 
Tielmans  approached  him  and  said  affection- 
ately, "What  is  the  matter?" — "The  Lord  calls 
me,"  he  answered.  Giles  was  going  to  speak 
further  with  him,  but  the  archers  roughly  thrust 
him  back,  saying,  "  Off  with  thee ;  thou  hast 
deserved  to  die  as  much  as  he.  Thy  turn  will 
come." — "  Think  also  of  your  own,"  said  Giles. 

On  the  following  day  Justus  was  again 
brought  before  the  judges.  "  Hast  thou  chang- 
ed thy  opinion  ?"  they  said  to  him.     "  If  thou 


JUSTUS  VAN  OUSBERGHEN,  46 1 

dost  not  retract  everything  thou  wilt  perish." 
— "  Never  will  I  deny,  on  earth  and  before 
men,  the  eternal  truth  of  God,  because  I  de- 
sire that  it  should  bear  witness  for  me  before 
the  Father  in  heaven."  Thereupon  they  con- 
demned him  to  be  burnt  alive.  ''  Thy  body 
shall  be  consumed,"  they  said,  "  and  entirely  re- 
duced to  ashes."  This  was  enough  to  strike 
terror  into  the  heart  of  the  poor  man,  who  had 
such  a  dread  of  fire  ;  but  falling  upon  his  knees 
he  thanked  God,  and  then  his  judges,  for  put- 
ting an  end  to  the  miseries  of  his  life.  Terri- 
fied, however,  at  the  thought  of  the  flames,  he 
turned  to  his  judges  and  said,  "Give  permission 
for  me  to  be  beheaded." — "The  sentence  is 
passed,"  they  said,  "  and  can  be  revoked  only 
by  the  queen." 

Giles  Tielmans  did  not  leave  Ousberghen ; 
consolations  flowed  from  his  lips  in  accents  so 
divine,  with  such  energy,  sweetness  and  piety, 
that  every  word  went  to  the  heart  of  *the  suf- 
ferer and  drew  tears  from  his  eyes.  Unfor- 
tunately, a  great  number  of  monks  and  priests 
kept  coming,  and  continually  interrupted  these 
delightful  conversations.  "  Do  not  trouble 
yourselves  so  much,"  said  Justus  to  the  monks ; 
"  but  if  you  have  power  to  do  anything  for  me, 
only  entreat  of  the  judges  that  I  may  be  be- 
headed." His  horror  of  burning  did  not  abate. 
"We  will  see,"  they  said  craftily,  "whether  it 


462  MARTYRS  OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

can  be  done."  They  then  urged  him  to  re- 
ceive at  their  hands  the  sacrament  of  the  body 
and  blood  of  the  Saviour.  "  I  long  ago  re- 
ceived it  for  the  first  time  spiritually,"  he  said  ; 
"  it  is  engraved  in  living  letters  on  the  tables 
of  my  heart.  Nevertheless,  I  do  not  despise 
the  symbols,  and  if  you  are  willing  to  give  me 
them  under  the  two  kinds  of  bread  and  wine, 
according  to  the  institution  of  the  Saviour,  I 
will  receive  them."  The  monks  consented. 
It  was  a  large  concession  on  their  part.  The 
relator,  however,  who  was  in  the  prison,  is  un- 
able to  assert  that  the  Supper  was  thus  given 
to  him. 

On  the  eve  of  the  execution  almost  all  the 
household  went  up  to  him.  He  was  very  fee- 
ble and  suffered  much  from  thirst.  He  turned, 
however,  to  his  friends  and  said,  "  My  death  is 
at  hand ;  and  since  all  our  sins  were  nailed  to 
the  cross  of  our  Saviour,  I  am  ready  to  seal 
with  my  blood  his  heavenly  doctrine."  They 
all  wept,  and,  falling  on  their  knees,  by  the 
mouth  of  Giles  they  commended  Justus  to 
the  Lord.  When  the  prayer  was  finished, 
Ousberghen  rose  and  said,  ''  I  perceive  with- 
in me  a  great  light,  which  makes  me  rejoice 
with  joy  unspeakable.  I  have  now  no  other 
desire  than  to  die  and  be  with  Christ." 

Two  of  the  councilors  had  eone  to  the  eov- 
erness  of  the   Netherlands,  and   had  request- 


RODRIGO   DE   VALE  RIO.  463 

ed  her  to  substitute  beheading  for  the  stake. 
Queen  Mary  instantly  repHed,  "I  will  do  so; 
it  is  a  very  small  favor  where  death  is  not  re- 
mitted." Was  there  any  connection  between 
this  favor  and  the  consent  of  Justus  to  receive 
the  Supper  at  the  hands  of  the  priests,  pro- 
vided it  were  administered  under  both  kinds  ? 
We  sometimes  see  even  strong  minds  shaken 
by  some  innate  aversion,  such  as  that  which 
Justus  experienced  at  the  thought  of  fire. 

On  January  7,  early  in  the  morning,  the  ar- 
chers arrived.  Justus  van  Ousberghen  was 
conducted  from  the  prison  to  the  market-place, 
and  there  forthwith  his  head  was  cut  off.  While 
this  was  going  on  the  whole  prison  was  in  tears. 


XXXII. 
RODRIGO  DE  VALERIO, 

A.  D.  1525-1535- 

The  chief  Reformer  of  Spain  was  born  in 
Andalusia,  which  in  the  eyes  of  the  ancients 
was  the  fairest  and  happiest  of  all  the  coun- 
tries in  the  world.  Near  rocky  mountains, 
on  a  vast  plain  of  picturesque  and  solemn 
aspect,  lies  Lebrixa,  an  ancient  town,  about 
ten  leagues  from  Seville  on  the  Cadiz  side. 
Here  lived  Rodrigo  de  Valerio,  a  young  man 
of   a  rich  and  distinguished   family.     He   had, 


464  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

in  common  with  the  Andalusians,  great  quick- 
ness of  apprehension ;  fancy  sparkled  in  his 
speech,  and  his  temperament  was  very  cheer- 
ful. Like  them,  he  was  distinguished  by  his 
love  of  pleasure,  and  it  was  his  glory  to  sur- 
pass in  its  Indulgence  all  the  young  men  with 
whom  he  associated.  He  generally  lived  at 
Seville,  a  town  called  by  the  Romans  "little 
Rome  "  (Romula),  which  had  long  been  a  cen- 
tre of  intelligence,  and  where  the  Alcazar  and 
other  monuments  recalled  the  magnificence  of 
the  Moorish  kings. 

Rodrlgo  had  received  a  liberal  education, 
and  had  learned  a  little  Latin,  but  this  had 
been  speedily  forgotten  amidst  the  diversions 
of  youth.  There  was  not  a  hunt  nor  a  game 
at  which  he  was  not  present.  He  was  to  be 
seen  arriving  at  the  rendezvous  mounted  on 
a  superb  horse  richly  equipped,  and  himself 
magnificently  attired.  Easy  and  skillful  in 
bodily  exercises,  he  carried  away  every  prize. 
Full  of  grace  and  elegance,  he  succeeded  In 
winning  the  favor  of  fair  ladies.  His  delight 
was  to  mount  the  wildest  horse,  to  scale  the 
rocks,  to  dance  with  light  foot,  to  hunt  with 
horn  and  hound,  to  draw  the  crossbow  or 
shoot  with  the  arquebus,  and  to  be  the  leader 
of  fashionable  young  men  in  every  party  and 
at  every  festival. 

All  at  once  Valerio  disappeared  from  society. 


RODRIGO  DE   VALERIO.  465 

He  was  sought  at  the  games,  in  the  dance,  at 
the  races,  but  was  nowhere  to  be  found.  Every- 
one was  asking  what  had  become  of  him.  He 
had  abandoned  everything.  The  pleasures  of 
the  world  had  oppressed  and  wearied  him,  and 
he  had  found  all  void  and  bitterness.  *'What!" 
thought  he,  "  play  the  lute,  make  one's  horse 
caper,  sing,  dance,  and  forget  what  it  is  to  be 
a  man  !"  A  voice  had  cried  in  his  heart  that 
God  was  all  in  all.  He  had  yielded  to  no  hu- 
man influence ;  God  alone  had  touched  him  by 
his  Spirit.  The  change  was  for  this  reason  all 
the  more  remarkable.  The  lively  affections  of 
his  heart,  which  had  hitherto  rushed  like  a  tem- 
pestuous torrent  downward  toward  the  world, 
now  rose  with  the  same  energy  toward  heaven. 
"A  divine  passion,"  says  a  contemporary,  "sud- 
denly seized  him.  Casting  off  his  old  inclina- 
tions and  despising  human  judgment,  he  ap- 
plied his  whole  strength,  both  of  mind  and 
body,  so  zealously  to  the  pursuit  of  piety  that 
no  worldly  affection  seemed  to  be  left  in 
him," 

If  Rodrigo  had  then  retired  to  a  convent, 
all  would  have  been  en  r^gle,  and  every  one 
would  have  admired  him  ;  but  no  one  could 
understand  why,  while  renouncing  pleasure, 
he  did  not  immediately  shut  himself  up  in  one 
of  those  human  sanctuaries  to  which  alone 
the  world  at  that  time  gave   the  patent  of  a 

30 


466  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION, 

devout  life.  Some,  indeed,  of  the  remarks 
made  on  him  were  very  natural.  He  had 
passed  from  one  extreme  to  the  other,  and 
in  his  first  fervor  he  exposed  himself  to  the 
ridicule  of  his  old  companions.  The  young 
man,  who  had  hitherto  been  remarkable  for 
the  delicacy  of  his  manners,  the  elegance  of 
his  discourse  and  the  splendor  of  his  dress, 
displayed  now  a  somewhat  repulsive  rough- 
ness and  negligence.  Sincere  and  upright, 
but  as  yet  unenlightened,  unacquainted  indeed 
with  any  other  pious  life  than  that  of  ascetics, 
it  is  not  astonishing  that  he  threw  himself  at 
first  into  an  exaggerated  asceticism.  He 
thought  that  he  should  thus  renounce  the 
world  more  completely  and  make  a  more 
perfect  sacrifice  to  the  Lord.  "  He  has  lost 
his  head,"  said  some ;  "  He  is  drunk,"  said 
others.  But  on  closer  observation  the  true 
fear  of  God  was  to  be  seen  in  him,  a  sincere 
repentance  for  the  vanity  of  his  life,  an  ar- 
dent thirst  for  righteousness,  and  an  indefat- 
igable zeal  in  acquiring  all  the  characteristics 
of  true  piety.  But  one  thing  above  all  oc- 
cupied his  mind.  We  have  seen  that  he  had 
learned  Latin.  This  knowledge,  which  he  had 
despised,  now  became  of  the  greatest  service 
to  him.  It  was  only  in  this  language  that  the 
sacred  writings  could  be  read  ;  he  studied 
them  day  and  night;    by  means  of  hard   toil 


RODRIGO   DE    VALERIO.  4^7 

he  fixed  them  in  his  memory,  and  he  had  an 
admirable  gift  for  applying  the  words  of  Script- 
ure with  correctness  and  promptitude.  He 
endeavored  to  regulate  his  whole  conduct  by 
their  teaching,  and  people  perceived  in  him 
the  presence  of  the  Spirit  by  whom  they  were 
dictated. 

Valerio  became  one  of  the  apostles  of  the 
doctrines  of  Luther  and  the  other  Reformers. 
"It  was  not  in  their  writings  that  he  had  learned 
these.  He  had  derived  them  directly  from  the 
Holy  Scriptures.  Those  sacred  books,  which, 
according  to  some,  are  the  source  of  such  va- 
rious doctrines,  then  produced  in  every  coun- 
try of  Christendom  the  same  faith  and  the 
same  life."  He  soon  began  to  diffuse  around 
him  the  light  he  had  received.  People  were 
astonished  at  hearing  this  young  layman,  who 
had  recently  made  one  of  every  party  of  pleas- 
ure, speaking  with  so  much  fervor.  "From 
whom  do  you  hold  your  commission?"  asked 
some  one. — "From  God  himself,"  replied  he, 
"who  enlightens  us  with  his  Holy  Spirit,  and 
does  not  consider  whether  his  messenger  is  a 
priest  or  a  monk." 

Rodrigo  faithfully  pursued  his  labors  in  Se- 
ville. He  held  conversations  daily  with  the 
priests  and  the  monks.  "Pray,  how  comes  it 
to  pass,"  he  said  to  them,  "that  not  only  the 
clergy,    but   the    whole    Christian    community, 


4^8  MARTYRS  OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

are  found  to  be  in  so  lamentable  a  condition 
that  there  seems  to  be  hardly  any  hope  of  a 
remedy  for  it  ?  It  is  you  that  are  the  cause  of 
this  state  of  things.  The  corruption  of  your 
order  has  corrupted  everything.  Lose  no  time 
in  applying  an  efficient  remedy  to  so  vast  an 
evil.  Be  yourselves  transformed,  that  you  may 
be  able  to  transform  others."  Valerio  support- 
ed these  eloquent  appeals  by  the  declarations 
of  Holy  Scripture.  The  priests  were  aston- 
ished and  indignant.  "  Whence  comes  the  au- 
dacity," they  said,  *'  with  which  you  assail  those 
who  are  the  very  lights  and  pillars  of  the 
Church  ?  How  dare  a  mere  layman,  an  un- 
lettered man,  who  has  been  occupied  solely 
in  secular  affairs  and  in  ruining  himself,  speak 
with  such  insolence  ?  Who  commissioned  you  ? 
and  where  is  the  seal  of  your  calling?" 

"Assuredly,"  replied  Valerio,  candidly,  "I  did 
not  acquire  this  wisdom  from  your  corrupt  mor- 
als ;  it  comes  from  the  Spirit  of  God,  which 
flows  like  rivers  of  living  water  from  those 
who  believe  in  Jesus  Christ.  As  for  my  bold- 
ness, it  is  given  by  Him  who  sends  me.  He 
is  the  truth  itself  which  I  proclaim.  The  Spirit 
of  God  is  not  bound  to  any  order,  least  of  all 
to  that  of  a  corrupt  clergy.  Those  men  were 
laymen,  plain  fishermen,  who  convicted  of  blind- 
ness the  whole  learned  synagogue  and  called 
the  world  to  the  knowledge  of  salvation." 


ROD  RIG  O  DE   VALE  RIO.  4^9 

Thus  spoke  Rodrigo,  and  he  was  distressed 
to  see  all  these  priests  "  unable  to  endure  the 
shining  light  of  the  gospel."  One  great  con- 
solation was  given  to  him.  The  preacher  of 
Seville  cathedral  at  this  time  was  John  Gil,  or 
Egidius,  a  doctor  born  at  Olvera  in  Aragon 
and  educated  at  the  University  of  Alcala.  He 
possessed  the  qualities  of  an  orator,  for  he  was 
a  man  of  fine  character  and  of  keen  sensibil- 
ity. But  these  essential  qualities,  instead  of 
being  developed  at  the  university,  had  lain  dor- 
mant. The  intellectual  faculty  alone  had  been 
cultivated.  There  was  a  fire  in  the  man's  na- 
ture, but  it  had  been  quenched  by  Scholasti- 
cism. Egidius  had  plunged  into  the  study  of 
the  theology  of  the  Schools,  the  only  science 
then  in  vogue  in  Spain.  In  this  he  had  dis- 
tinguished himself,  had  won  the  highest  aca- 
demical honors,  and  had  become  professor  of 
theology  at  Siguenza.  He  was  not  content 
with  letting  the  word  of  God  alone ;  he  openly 
avowed  contempt  for  the  study  of  it,  ridiculed 
such  members  of  the  university  as  diligently 
read  the  sacred  books,  and  with  a  shrug  of 
the  shoulders  used  to  call  them  "those  good 
Biblists."  Peter  Lombard,  Thomas  Aquinas, 
Scotus  and  other  doctors  of  the  same  class 
were  the  men  for  him.  His  flatterers  went 
so  far  as  to  allege  that  he  surpassed  them. 

As  the  reputation  of  Egidius  was  spreading 


470  MARTYRS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

far  and  wide,  when  the  office  of  chief  canon 
or  preacher  of  the  cathedral  of  Seville  became 
vacant  the  chapter  unanimously  elected  him, 
and  even  dispensed  with  the  trial  usual  in 
such  cases.  Egidius,  absorbed  in  his  Scholastic 
books,  had  never  preached  in  public  or  studied 
the  Holy  Scriptures.  He  nevertheless  fancied 
that  nothing  could  be  easier  to  him  than  preach- 
ing, which  in  his  view  was  an  inferior  office. 
He  expected  even  that  he  should  dazzle  his 
hearers  by  the  blaze  of  Scholasticism  and  at- 
tract them  by  its  charms.  He  therefore  as- 
cended the  pulpit  of  the  cathedral  of  the  cap- 
ital of  Andalusia.  A  numerous  congregation 
had  assembled,  and,  expecting  something  won- 
derful, were  very  attentive.  The  illustrious 
doctor  preached,  but  after  the  Scholastic  fash- 
ion. Having  put  forward  some  proposition, 
he  explained  its  various  meanings.  The  terms 
which  he  made  use  of  were  those  of  the  Schools, 
and  his  hearers  could  hardly  understand  them. 
What  frivolous  distinctions !  What  profitless 
questions !  The  preacher  thought  it  all  very 
fine ;  his  audience  felt  it  to  be  very  tiresome. 
They  gave  him,  however,  a  second  and  a  third 
hearing  ;  but  it  was  always  the  same — dry  and 
wearisome.  The  famous  theoloofian  was  thus 
the  least  popular  of  the  preachers,  and  Egidius 
saw  his  congregation  lessening  day  by  day. 
His  sermons   fell   into    the  greatest   contempt 


RODRIGO  DE   VALE  RIO.  4/1 

among  the  people.  Those  who  had  impru- 
dently called  him  to  the  post  began  to  con- 
sider how  they  could  get  rid  of  him  ;  and  the 
preacher  himself,  anxious  about  his  reputa- 
tion and  the  usefulness  of  his  ministry,  began 
to  look  out  for  a  less  brilliant  position,  in 
which  people  might  make  more  account  of 
him. 

Rodrigo  had  gone  with  the  multitude,  and 
was  one  of  those  who  were  dissatisfied  with 
these  Scholastic  discourses.  But  he  was  gifted 
with  the  discerning  of  spirits,  and  beneath  the 
Scholastic  doctor  he  had  been  able  to  recognize 
the  orator  and  his  indisputable  abilities.  He 
was  grieved  to  see  the  gifts  of  God  thus  thrown 
away,  and  he  resolved  to  speak  frankly  to  Egid- 
ius.  "  Divine  Providence,"  says  the  chron- 
icler, "  impelled  him  to  this  course."  Having 
made  request,  therefore,  for  an  interview  with 
the  canon,  Valerio,  received  by  him  with  some 
feeling  of  surprise,  but  still  with  kindliness,  be- 
gan at  once  to  speak  to  him  about  the  function 
of  the  Christian  orator.  This  function,  in  his 
view,  was  not  to  set  forth  certain  theses  and 
antitheses,  but  to  address  the  consciences  of 
men,  to  present  Christ  to  them  as  the  Author 
of  eternal  salvation,  and  to  press  them  to  throw 
themselves  into  the  arms  of  the  Saviour,  that 
through  him  they  might  become  new  creatures. 
"  You  are  in  need  of  other  studies,"  he  said  to 


472  MARTYRS   OF  THE   REFORMATION. 

the  Schoolman,  "  other  books  and  other  guides, 
than  those  which  you  have  chosen." 

Egidius  was  at  first  astounded ;  his  pride 
rebelled.  "What  audacity!"  he  thought;  "this 
man  sprung  from  the  common  people,  ignorant 
and  of  feeble  understanding,  dares  to  criticise 
me,  and  confidently  to  teach  me,  a  man  with 
whom  he  is  hardly  acquainted !"  Neverthe- 
less, the  natural  kindliness  of  Egidius,  and  the 
reflection  that  Rodrigo  was  speaking  of  the  art 
of  preaching,  in  which  he  had  miserably  failed, 
repressed  this  first  emotion.  He  kept  his  self- 
possession  and  listened  attentively  to  the  lay- 
man. Rodrigo  frankly  pointed  out  to  him  the 
defects  of  his  manner  of  preaching,  and  ex- 
horted him  to  search  the  Scriptures.  "  You 
will  never  succeed,"  he  said,  "  in  becoming  real- 
ly powerful  as  a  teacher  unless  you  study  the 
Bible  day  and  night."  He  told  him  that  in  or- 
der to  preach  salvation  he  must  first  have  found 
it  himself,  and  that  out  of  the  abundance  of  the 
heart  the  mouth  must  speak.  A  few  hours  suf- 
ficed for  the  enlightenment  of  Egidius,  and  from 
this  time  he  became  a  new  man.  How  many 
years  had  he  lost  both  as  student  and  as  pro- 
fessor! "I  perceive,"  said  he,  "that  all  the 
studies  and  all  the  labors  of  my  past  life  have 
been  vain.  I  now  enter  upon  the  new  path  of 
a  wisdom  of  which  I  did  not  know  the  A  B  C." 
The  weariness  and  dejection  of  Egidius  were 


RODRIGO   DE   VALE  RIO.  473 

now  over,  and  he  felt  great  peace  and  joy.  He 
saw  God  opening  to  him  the  treasury  of  his 
love.  "The  heavens  were  beginning  to  be 
serene  and  the  earth  peaceful."  Egidius  was 
naturally  very  open-hearted,  frank  and  sincere. 
The  gospel,  the  great  revelation  of  God's  love, 
had  for  him  an  unspeakable  charm.  He  re- 
ceived it  joyfully,  and  his  heart  resounded  with 
a  new  song.  He  studied  the  Holy  Scriptures, 
prayed,  meditated  and  read  good  authors,  and 
thus  made  progress  in  the  knowledge  of  true 
theology. 

Rodrigo  de  Valerio  was  made  glad  by  the 
wonderful  change  which  God  had  wrought 
through  his  ministry,  and  the  victory  which  he 
had  won  raised  still  higher  his  burning  zeal. 
He  began  to  proclaim  the  gospel  not  only  in 
private  meetings,  but  in  public,  in  the  streets 
and  squares  of  the  town,  near  the  Giralda,  the 
convent  of  Buena  Vista,  the  Alcazar  and  on 
the  banks  of  the  Guadalquivir.  He  was  de- 
nounced to  the  Holy  Office,  and  when  he  ap- 
peared before  the  tribunal  of  the  Inquisition 
he  spoke  earnestly  about  the  real  Church  of 
Christ,  set  forth  its  distinguishing  marks,  and 
especially  insisted  on  the  justification  of  man 
by  faith.  This  took  place  a  little  while  after 
the  conversion  of  Egidius,  whose  new  faith 
was  not  yet  known,  and  who  still  enjoyed  in 
society  the  reputation  of  a  scholar  and  a  g'^od 


474  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

Catholic.  Glad  of  an  opportunity  of  repaying 
his  great  debt,  he  came  before  the  tribunal  and 
defended  his  friend.  He  thus  exerted  an  influ- 
ence over  the  judges,  and  they  took  into  con- 
sideration the  lowliness  of  Valerio's  family  and 
the  rank  which  he  held  in  society.  Moreover, 
they  said,  Valerio  is  tainted  with  insanity,  and 
it  can  hardly  be  necessary  to  hand  over  a  mad- 
man to  the  secular  power.  His  goods  were 
confiscated,  he  was  exhorted  to  return  to  the 
right  path,  and  was  then  set  at  liberty.  Vale- 
rio now  refrained,  by  the  desire  of  his  friends, 
from  publicly  preaching  the  gospql.  Unwill- 
ing, however,  to  do  absolutely  nothing,  he  had 
gathered  together  a  certain  number  of  his 
friends,  and  had  in  a  familiar  way  interpreted 
to  them  the  Epistle  of  St.  Paul  to  the  Romans 
— that  ocean,  as  Chrysostom  called  it,  which 
meets  us  everywhere  at  the  beginning  of  the 
awakenings.  Some  of  those  who  listened  to 
him  persevered  in  the  faith ;  others,  at  a  later 
time,  rejected  it.  Among  the  latter  in  partic- 
ular was  Peter  Diaz,  who,  having  forsaken  the 
gospel,  entered  the  Society  of  Jesuits  and  died 
in  Mexico. 

But  the  brave  Rodrigo  could  not  long  sub- 
mit to  this  restriction.  Ought  he  to  shrink,  he 
said  to  himself,  from  exposing  his  liberty,  or 
even  his  life,  when  the  gospel  was  at  stake  ? 
Others  had  given  their  lives  for  a  less  object 


RODRIGO  DE   VALE  RIO.  475 

than  this.  He  was  in  hope,  moreover,  of  arous- 
ing by  his  own  example  other  combatants  who 
should  finally  win  the  victory.  He  therefore 
laid  aside  timid  precautions  and  began  again  to 
point  out  publicly  the  errors  and  superstitions 
of  Rome.  He  was  once  more  denounced,  and 
was  arrested  by  the  Inquisition,  which  was  quite 
determined  this  time  not  to  let  slip  the  pretend- 
ed madman.  He  was  sentenced  to  imprison- 
ment for  life  and  to  wear  the  san  benito,  a  cloak 
of  a  yellow  color,  the  usual  garb  of  the  victims 
of  the  Inquisition.  Every  Sunday  and  feast- 
day  Valerio  was  taken,  as  well  as  other  peni- 
tents, by  the  familiars  of  the  Holy  Office  to 
St.  Saviour's  church  at  Seville  to  hear  both  the 
sermon  and  the  high  mass.  He  appeared  as  a 
penitent  without  repentance.  He  could  not 
listen  to  the  doctrine  of  the  monks  without  in 
some  way  showing  his  opposition  to  it.  He 
would  sometimes  rise  from  his  seat,  and,  while 
the  whole  assembly  fixed  their  eyes  on  him,  put 
questions  to  the  preacher,  refute  his  doctrines 
and  entreat  his  hearers  to  take  care  they  did 
not  receive  them.  Rodrigo  could  not  hear  a 
doctrine  contrary  to  the  gospel  without  his 
whole  soul  beine  stirred  within  him.  The  in- 
quisitors,  steadily  persuaded  of  his  madness, 
at  first  excused  these  interpellations,  which  to 
them  seemed  to  be  the  clearest  proof  of  his 
malady.     But  the  discourses  of  this  insane  man 


47^  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

were  so  reasonable  that  they  produced  an  im- 
pression. The  inquisitors  at  length  confined 
him  in  a  convent  on  the  coast  of  San  Lucar, 
where  all  society  was  forbidden  him  ;  and  here 
he  died  at  about  the  age  of  fifty.  His  san  be- 
nito  was  exhibited  in  the  metropolitan  church 
of  Seville,  with  this  inscription :  ''  Rodrigo  Va- 
lerio,  a  false  apostle  who  gave  out  that  he  was 
sent  of  God." 


XXXIII. 

JOHN  NICHOLSON  (CALLED  ALSO 
LAMBERT), 

A.  D.  1538. 

There  was  in  London  in  1538  a  minister 
named  John  Nicholson,  who  had  studied  at 
the  University  of  Cambridge,  had  been  con- 
verted by  means  of  his  conversations  with 
Bilney,  and  had  afterward  been  the  friend  of 
Tyndale  and  Fryth,  and  by  his  intercourse  with 
them  had  been  strengthened  in  the  faith.  He 
was  a  conscientious  man,  who  did  not  suppose 
that  it  was  enough  to  hold  a  doctrine  conform- 
able with  the  word  of  Ciod,  but,  conscious  of 
the  great  value  of  the  truth,  was  ready  to  lay 
down  his  life  for  it,  even  if  there  were  nothing 
at  stake  but  a  point  looked  upon  as  secondary. 
Faithfulness  or  unfaithfulness  to  one's  convic- 


JOHN  NICHOLSON  {LAMBERT).  4/7 

tlons, — this  was  in  his  view  the  decisive  test  of 
the  morahty  or  immoraHty  of  a  man.  In  the 
age  of  the  Reformation  there  were  greater 
preachers  and  greater  theologians  than  Nich- 
olson, but  there  was  not  one  more  deserving 
of  honor.  Having  translated  from  the  Latin 
and  the  Greek  works  which  might  give  offence, 
and  having  professed  his  faith,  he  had  been 
obliged  to  cross  the  sea,  and  he  became  chap- 
lain to  the  English  house  at  Antwerp.  Here  it 
was  that  he  became  acquainted  with  Tyndale 
and  Fryth.  Being  accused  of  heresy  by  one 
Barlow,  he  was  taken  to  London  by  order  of 
Sir  Thomas  More,  then  chancellor,  and  was 
kept  prisoner  at  Oxford  in  the  house  of  Arch- 
bishop Warham,  where  he  was  deprived  of 
everything,  especially  of  books. 

On  the  occasion  of  his  appearance  in  1532 
before  the  archbishop  and  other  prelates,  Nich- 
olson steadfastly  maintained  that  all  that  is 
necessary  to  salvation  is  to  be  found  in  the 
Holy  Scripture.  "  This,"  he  said,  "  is  the  ques- 
tion which  is  the  head  and  whole  content  of 
all  others  objected  against  me.  This  is  both 
the  helm  and  stern  of  both  together."  There 
were  forty-five  points,  and  to  these  he  made 
answer  article  by  article.  Shortly  afterward, 
in  consequence  of  the  death  of  Warham  and 
of  Cranmer's  appointment  to  the  vacant  see, 
the  Antwerp  chaplain  was  set  at  liberty.     He 


478  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

determined  to  remain  in  London,  took,  it  seems, 
from  prudential  considerations,  the  name  of 
Lambert,  and  devoted  himself  to  the  labors 
of  a  teacher,  but  at  the  same  time  adhered  to 
the  resolution  to  avail  himself  of  every  op- 
portunity of  maintaining  the  truth. 

Being  informed  one  day  that  Doctor  Taylor 
was  to  preach  at  St.  Peter's  church,  Cornhill, 
he  went  to  hear  him,  not  only  because  of  his 
well-known  gifts,  but  also  because  he  was  not 
far  from  the  gospel.  He  was  later  appointed 
bishop  of  Lincoln  under  pious  King  Edward, 
and  was  deprived  of  that  office  under  the  fa- 
natical Mary.  Taylor  preached  that  day  on 
the  real  presence  of  Christ  in  the  bread  and 
the  wine.  Nicholson  also  believed,  indeed,  in 
the  presence  of  the  Lord  in  the  Supper,  but 
this  presence,  he  believed,  was  in  the  hearts 
of  the  faithful.  After  the  service  he  went  to 
see  Taylor,  and  with  modesty  and  kindliness 
urged  various  arguments  against  the  doctrines 
which  he  had  been  setting  forth.  "  I  have  not 
time  just  now,"  said  the  doctor,  ''  to  discuss 
the  point  with  you,  as  other  matters  demand 
my  attention  ;  but  oblige  me  by  putting  your 
thoughts  in  writing,  and  call  again  when  I  am 
more  at  leisure."  Lambert  applied  himself  to 
the  task  of  writing,  and  against  the  doctrine 
of  the  presence  in  the  bread  he  adduced  ten 
arguments,  which  were,  says  Fox,  very  power- 


JOHN  NICHOLSON  {LAMBERT).  4/9 

ful.  It  does  not  appear  that  Taylor  replied  to 
them.  He  was  an  upright  man,  who  gave 
impartial  consideration  to  these  questions,  and 
he  seems  to  have  been  somewhat  shaken  by 
Nicholson's  reasoning.  As  Taylor  was  anx- 
ious to  be  enlightened  himself  and  to  try  to  sat- 
isfy his  friendly  opponent,  he  communicated  the 
document  to  Barnes.  The  latter,  a  truly  evan- 
gelical Christian,  was  nevertheless  of  opinion 
that  to  put  forward  the  doctrine  of  this  little 
work  would  seriously  injure  the  cause  of  the 
Reformation.  He  therefore  advised  Taylor  to 
speak  to  Archbishop  Cranmer  on  the  subject. 
Cranmer,  who  was  of  the  same  opinion,  invited 
Nicholson  to  a  conference,  at  which  Barnes, 
Taylor  and  Latimer  were  also  present.  These 
four  divines  had  not  at  this  time  abandoned 
the  view  which  the  ex-chaplain  of  Antwerp 
opposed,  and,  considering  the  fresh  revival  of 
sacramental  Catholicism,  they  were  not  inclined 
to  do  so.  They  strove  therefore  to  change 
the  opinions  of  the  pious  minister,  but  in  vain. 
Finding  that  they  unanimously  condemned  his 
views,  he  exclaimed,  "Well,  then,  I  appeal  to 
the  king."  This  was  a  foolish  and  fatal  ap- 
peal. 

Gardiner  did  not  lose  a  minute,  but  prompt- 
ly took  the  business  in  hand,  because  he  saw 
in  it  an  opportunity  of  striking  a  heavy  blow ; 
and,  what  was  an    inestimable  advantage,   he 


480  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

would  have  on  his  side,  he  thought,  Cranmer 
and  the  other  three  evangeHcal  divines.  He 
therefore  "went  straight  to  the  king,"  and,  re- 
questing a  private  audience,  addressed  him  in 
the  most  flattering  terms.  Then,  as  if  the 
interests  of  the  king  were  dearer  to  him  than 
to  the  king  himself,  he  respectfully  pointed  out 
that  he  had  everywhere  excited  by  various  re- 
cent proceedings  suspicion  and  hatred,  but  that 
at  this  moment  a  way  was  open  for  pacifying 
men's  minds  "  if  only  in  this  matter  of  John 
Lambert  he  would  manifest  unto  the  people 
how  strictly  he  would  resist  heretics  ;  and  by 
this  new  rumor  he  would  bring  to  pass  not 
only  to  extinguish  all  other  former  rumors, 
and  as  it  were  with  one  nail  to  drive  out  an- 
other, but  also  should  discharge  himself  of 
all  suspicion,  in  that  he  now  began  to  be  re- 
ported to  be  a  favorer  of  new  sects  and  opin- 
ions." 

The  vanity  as  well  as  the  interests  of  Henry 
VIII.  dictated  to  him  the  same  course  as  Gar- 
diner advised.  He  determined  to  avail  him- 
self of  this  opportunity  to  make  an  ostenta- 
tious display  of  his  own  knowledge  and  zeal. 
He  would  make  arrangements  of  an  imposing 
character ;  it  would  not  be  enough  to  hold 
a  mere  conversation,  but  there  must  be  a 
grand  show.  He  therefore  ordered  invita- 
tions to  be  sent  to  a  great  number  of  nobles 


JOHN  NICHOLSON  {LAMBERT).  48 1 

and  bishops  to  attend  the  solemn  trial  at  which 
he  would  appear  as  head  of  the  Church.  He 
was  not  content  with  the  title  alone ;  he  would 
show  that  he  acted  the  part.  One  of  the  prin- 
cipal characteristics  of  Henry  VIII.  was  a  fond- 
ness for  showinof  off  what  he  conceived  himself 
to  be  or  what  he  supposed  himself  to  know,  with- 
out ever  suspecting  that  display  is  often  the  ruin 
of  those  who  wish  to  seem  more  than  they  are. 

Meanwhile,  Lambert,  confined  at  Lambeth, 
wrote  an  apology  for  his  faith,  which  he  ded- 
icated to  the  king,  and  in  which  he  solidly 
established  the  doctrine  which  he  had  pro- 
fessed. He  rejoiced  that  his  request  to  be 
heard  before  Henry  VIII.  had  been  granted. 
He  desired  that  his  trial  might  be  blessed, 
and  he  indulged  in  the  pleasing  illusion  that 
the  king,  once  set  in  the  presence  of  the  truth, 
must  needs  be  enlightened  and  would  publicly 
proclaim  it.  These  pleasant  fancies  gave  him 
courage,  and  he  lived  on  hope. 

On  the  appointed  day,  Friday,  November  i6, 
1538,  the  assembly  was  constituted  in  West- 
minster Hall.  The  king  sat  upon  the  throne 
in  his  robes  of  state.  On  his  rieht  were  the 
bishops,  judges  and  jurisconsults  ;  on  his  left, 
the  lords  temporal  of  the  realm  and  the  officers 
of  the  royal  house.  The  guards,  attired  in  white, 
were  near  their  master,  and  a  crowd  of  specta- 
tors filled   the  hall.     The  prisoner  was  placed 

31 


482  MARTYRS    OF   THE    REFORMATION. 

at  the  bar.  Doctor  Day  spoke  to  the  follow- 
ing  effect :  That  the  king  in  this  session  would 
have  all  states,  degrees,  bishops  and  all  others 
to  be  admonished  of  his  will  and  pleasure 
that  no  man  should  conceive  any  sinister  opin- 
ion of  him,  as  that,  now  the  authority  and 
name  of  the  bishop  of  Rome  being  utterly 
abolished,  he  would  also  extinguish  all  religion, 
or  give  liberty  unto  heretics  to  perturb  and 
trouble,  without  punishment,  the  churches  of 
England,  whereof  he  is  the  head.  And,  more- 
over, that  they  should  not  think  that  they  were 
assembled  at  that  present  to  make  any  dispu- 
tation upon  the  heretical  doctrine,  but  only  for 
this  purpose,  that  by  the  industry  of  him  and 
other  bishops  the  heresies  of  this  man  here 
present  [meaning  Lambert],  and  the  heresies 
of  all  such  like,  should  be  refuted  or  openly 
condemned  in  the  presence  of  them  all. 

Henry's  part  then  began.  His  look  was 
sternly  fixed  on  Lambert,  who  stood  facing 
him ;  his  features  were  contracted,  his  brows 
were  knit.  His  whole  aspect  was  adapted  to 
inspire  terror,  and  indicated  a  violence  of  an- 
ger unbecoming  in  a  judge,  and  still  more  so 
in  a  sovereign.  He  rose,  stood  leaning  on  a 
white  cushion,  and  looking  Lambert  full  in  the 
face,  he  said  to  him  in  a  disdainful  tone,  "  Ho  ! 
good  fellow,  what  is  thy  name  ?"  The  accused, 
humbly  kneeling  down,  replied,  "My  name  is 


JOHN  NICHOLSON  {LAMBERT).  483 

John  Nicholson,  although  of  many  I  be  called 
Lambert." — "What!"  said  the  king,  ''have  you 
two  names  ?  I  would  not  trust  you,  having  two 
names,  although  you  were  my  brother." — "  O 
most  noble  prince,"  replied  the  accused,  "your 
bishops  forced  me  of  necessity  to  change  my 
name."  Thereupon  the  king,  interrupting  him, 
commanded  him  to  declare  what  he  thought  as 

o 

touching  the  sacrament  of  the  altar.  "  Sire," 
said  Lambert,  "  first  of  all  I  give  God  thanks 
that  you  do  not  disdain  to  hear  me.  Many 
good  men,  in  many  places,  are  put  to  death 
without  your  knowledge.  But  now,  forasmuch 
as  that  high  and  eternal  King  of  kings  hath  in- 
spired and  stirred  up  the  king's  mind  to  under- 
stand the  causes  of  his  subjects,  specially  whom 
God  of  his  divine  goodness  hath  so  abundandy 
endued  with  so  great  gifts  of  judgment  and 
knowledge,  I  do  not  mistrust  but  that  God  will 
bring  some  great  thing  to  pass  through  him,  to 
the  setting  forth  of  the  glory  of  his  name." 

Henry,  who  could  not  bear  to  be  praised  by  a 
heretic,  rudely  interrupted  Lambert,  and  said  to 
him  in  an  angry  tone,  "I  came  not  hither  to  hear 
mine  own  praises  thus  painted  out  in  my  pres- 
ence, but  briefly  to  go  to  the  matter  without 
any  more  circumstance."  There  was  so  much 
harshness  in  the  king's  voice  that  Lambert 
was  agitated  and  confused.  He  had  dreamed 
of  something  very  different.     He  had  conceived 


484  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

a  sovereign  just  and  elevated  above  the  reach 
of  clerical  passions,  whose  noble  understanding 
would  be  struck  with  the  beauty  of  the  gospel. 
But  he  saw  a  passionate  man,  a  servant  of  the 
priests.  In  astonishment  and  confusion  he  kept 
silence  for  a  few  minutes,  questioning  within 
himself  what  he  ought  to  do  in  the  extremity 
to  which  he  was  reduced. 

Lambert  was  especially  attached  to  the  great 
verities  of  the  Christian  religion,  and  during 
his  trial  he  made  unreserved  confession  of 
them.  "Our  Saviour  would  not  have  us  great- 
ly esteem  our  merits,"  said  he,  "  when  we  have 
done  what  is  commanded  by  God,  but  rather 
reckon  ourselves  to  be  but  servants  unprofit- 
able to  God,  not  regarding  our  merit,  but  his 
grace  and  benefit.  '  Woe  be  to  the  life  of  men,' 
said  St.  Augustine,  '  be  they  ever  so  holy,  if 
thou  shalt  examine  them,  setting  thy  mercy 
aside!'  Again  he  says,  'Doth  any  man  give 
what  he  oweth  not  unto  thee,  that  thou  shouldst 
be  in  his  debt?  and  hath  any  man  aught  that 
is  not  thine  ?  All  my  hope  is  in  the  Lord's 
death.  His  death  is  my  merit,  my  refuge,  my 
health  and  my  resurrection.'  And  thus,"  adds 
Lambert,  ''we  should  serve  God  with  hearty 
love  as  children,  and  not  for  need  or  dread  as 
unlovinor  thralls  and  servants." 

But  the  king  wanted  to  localize  the  attack 
and  to  limit  the  examination  of  Lambert  to  the 


JOHN  NICHOLSON  {LAMBERT).  485 

subject  of  the  sacrament.  Finding  that  the 
accused  stood  silent,  the  kingr  said  to  him  in  a 
hasty  manner  with  anger  and  vehemency,  "  Why 
standest  thou  still  ?  Answer  as  touching  the 
sacrament  of  the  altar,  whether  dost  thou  say 
that  it  is  the  body  of  Christ  or  wilt  deny  it." 
After  uttering  these  words  the  king  lifted  up 
his  cap  adorned  with  pearls  and  feathers,  prob- 
ably as  a  token  of  reverence  for  the  subject 
under  discussion.  "I  answer  with  St.  Augus- 
tine," said  Lambert,  "  that  it  is  the  body  of 
Christ  after  a  certain  manner."  The  king  re- 
plied, "Answer  me  neither  out  of  St.  Augus- 
tine nor  by  the  authority  of  any  other,  but  tell 
me  plainly  whether  thou  sayest  it  is  the  body 
of  Christ  or  no."  Lambert  felt  what  might  be 
the  consequences  of  his  answer,  but  without 
hesitation  he  said,  'Then  I  deny  it  to  be  the 
body  of  Christ." — "  Mark  well !"  exclaimed  the 
king,  "  for  now  thou  shalt  be  condemned  even 
by  Christ's  own  word  :  '  Hoc  est  corpus  7neu7n!  " 
The  king,  then  turning  to  Cranmer,  com- 
manded him  to  refute  the  opinion  of  the  ac- 
cused. The  archbishop  spoke  with  modesty, 
calling  Lambert  ''  brother,"  and  although  refut- 
ing his  arguments  he  told  him  that  if  he  proved 
his  opinion  from  Holy  Scripture,  he  (Cranmer) 
would  willingly  embrace  it.  Gardiner,  finding 
that  Cranmer  was  too  weak,  began  to  speak. 
Tonstall  and  Stokesley  followed.    Lambert  had 


486  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

put  forward  ten  arguments,  and  ten  doctors 
were  appointed  to  deal  with  them,  each  doctor 
to  impugn  one  of  them.  Of  the  whole  dispu- 
tation the  passage  which  made  the  deepest  im- 
pression on  the  assembly  was  Stokesley's  argu- 
ment. "  It  is  the  doctrine  of  the  philosophers," 
he  said,  "  that  a  substance  cannot  be  changed 
but  into  a  substance."  Then,  by  the  example 
of  water  boiling  on  the  fire,  he  affirmed  the  sub- 
stance of  the  water  to  pass  into  the  substance 
of  the  air.  On  hearing  this  argument,  the  aspect 
of  the  bishops,  hitherto  somewhat  uneasy,  sud- 
denly changed.  They  were  transported  with 
joy,  and  considered  this  transmutation  of  the 
elements  as  giving  them  the  victory,  and  they 
cast  their  looks  over  the  whole  assembly  with 
an  air  of  triumph.  Loud  shouts  of  applause 
for  some  time  interrupted  the  sitting.  When 
silence  was  at  length  restored,  Lambert  replied 
that  the  moistness  of  the  water,  its  real  essence, 
remained  even  after  this  transformation — that 
nothing  was  changed  but  the  form ;  while  in 
their  system  of  the  corpus  Domini  the  substance 
itself  was  changed,  and  that  it  is  impossible  that 
the  qualities  and  accidents  of  things  should  re- 
main in  their  own  nature  apart  from  their  own 
subject.  But  Lambert  was  not  allowed  to  fin- 
ish his  refutation.  The  king  and  the  bishops, 
indignant  that  he  ventured  to  impugn  an  argu- 
ment which  had  transported  them  with  admira- 


JOHN  NICHOLSON  {LAMBERT),  48/ 

tion,  gave  vent  to  their  rage  against  him,  so 
that  he  was  forced  to  silence  and  had  to  endure 
patiently  all  their  insults. 

The  sittinor  had  lasted  from  noon  till  five 
o'clock  in  the  evening.  It  had  been  a  real  mar- 
tyrdom for  Lambert.  Loaded  with  rebukes  and 
insults,  intimidated  by  the  solemnity  of  the  pro- 
ceedings and  by  the  authority  of  the  persons 
with  whom  he  had  to  do,  alarmed  by  the  pres- 
ence of  the  king  and  by  the  terrible  threats 
which  were  uttered  against  him,  his  body  too, 
which  was  weak  before,  giving  way  under  the 
fatigue  of  a  sitting  of  five  hours,  during  which, 
standing  all  the  time,  he  had  been  compelled  to 
fight  a  fierce  battle, — convinced  that  the  clear- 
est and  most  irresistible  demonstrations  would 
be  smothered  amidst  the  outcries  of  the  by- 
standers, he  called  to  mind  these  words  of 
Scripture,  "  Be  still,"  and  was  silent.  This  self- 
restraint  was  regarded  as  defeat.  "  Where  is 
the  knowledge  so  much  boasted  of?"  they  said ; 
"where  is  his  power  of  argumentation  ?"  The 
assembly  had  looked  for  great  bursts  of  elo- 
quence, but  the  accused  was  silent.  The  palm 
of  victory  was  awarded  to  the  king  and  the 
bishops  by  noisy  and  universal  shouts  of  ap- 
plause. 

It  was  now  night.  The  servants  of  the  roy- 
al house  appeared  in  the  hall  and  lighted  the 
torches.     Henry  began  to  fmd  his  part  as  head 


488  MARTYRS  OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

of  the  Church  somewhat  wearisome.  He  de- 
termined to  bring  the  business  to  a  conclusion, 
and  by  his  severity  to  give  to  the  pope  and  to 
Christendom  a  briUiant  proof  of  his  orthodoxy. 
"What  sayest  thou  now,"  he  said  to  Lambert, 
"after  all  these  great  labors  which  thou  hast 
taken  upon  thee,  and  all  the  reasons  and  in- 
structions of  these  learned  men  ?  Art  thou 
not  yet  satisfied  ?  Wilt  thou  live  or  die?  What 
sayest  thou  ?  Thou  hast  yet  free  choice." 
Lambert  answered,  "  I  commend  my  soul  into 
the  hands  of  God,  but  my  body  I  wholly  yield 
and  submit  unto  your  clemency."  Then  said 
the  king,  "  In  that  case  you  must  die,  for  I  will 
not  be  a  patron  unto  heretics." 

Unhappy  Lambert !  He  had  committed  him- 
self to  the  mercy  of  a  prince  who  never  spared 
a  man  who  offended  him,  were  it  even  his  clo- 
sest friend.  The  monarch  turned  to  his  vicar- 
general  and  said,  "  Cromwell,  read  the  sentence 
of  condemnation."  This  was  a  cruel  task  to 
impose  upon  a  man  universally  considered  to 
be  the  friend  of  the  evangelicals.  But  Crom- 
well felt  the  ground  already  trembling  under 
his  feet.  He  took  the  sentence  and  read  it. 
Lambert  was  condemned  to  be  burnt. 

Four  days  afterward  the  evangelist  was  taken 
out  of  the  prison  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing and  brought  to  Cromwell's  house.  Crom- 
well summoned  him  to  his  room  and  announced 


JOHN  NICHOLSON  {LAMBERT).  4^9 

that  the  hour  of  his  death  was  come.  The  tid- 
ings greatly  consoled  and  gladdened  Lambert. 
It  is  stated  that  Cromwell  added  some  words  by 
way  of  excuse  for  the  part  which  he  had  taken 
in  his  condemnation,  and  sent  him  into  the 
room  where  the  gentlemen  of  his  household 
were  at  breakfast.  He  sat  down,  and  at  their 
invitation  partook  of  the  meal  with  them  with 
all  the  composure  of  a  Christian.  Immediate- 
ly after  breakfast  he  was  taken  to  Smithfield, 
and  was  there  placed  on  the  pile,  which  was 
not  raised  high.  His  legs  only  were  burnt, 
and  nothing  remained  but  the  stumps.  He 
was,  however,  still  alive,  and  two  of  the  sol- 
diers, observing  that  his  whole  body  could  not 
be  consumed,  thrust  into  him  their  halberts, 
one  on  each  side,  and  raised  him  above  the 
fire.  The  martyr,  stretching  toward  the  peo- 
ple his  hands,  now  burning,  said,  "  None  but 
Christ!  none  but  Christ!"  At  this  moment 
the  soldiers  withdrew  their  weapons  and  let 
the  pious  Lambert  drop  into  the  fire,  which 
speedily  consumed  him. 


490  MARTYRS  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

XXXIV. 
ANNE  ASKEW, 

A.  D.  1545. 

There  were  at  the  English  court  in  the  reign 
of  Henry  VIII.  a  certain  number  of  ladies  of 
the  highest  rank  who  loved  the  gospel — the 
duchess  of  Suffolk,  the  countess  of  Sussex, 
the  countess  of  Hertford,  Lady  Denny,  Lady 
Fitzwilliam,  and,  above  all,  the  queen.  Asso- 
ciated with  these  was  a  pious,  lively  and  beau- 
tiful young  lady,  of  great  intelligence  and  amia- 
ble disposition,  and  whose  fine  quahties  had  been 
improved  by  education.  Her  name  was  Anne 
Askew.  She  was  the  second  daughter  of  Sir 
William  Askew,  member  of  a  very  ancient  Lin- 
colnshire family.  She  had  two  brothers  and 
two  sisters.  Her  brother  Edward  was  one 
of  the  king's  body-guards.  The  queen  fre- 
quently received  Anne  and  other  Christian 
women  in  her  private  apartments,  and  there 
prayer  was  made  and  the  word  of  God  ex- 
pounded by  an  evangelical  minister.  The  king, 
indeed,  was  aware  of  these  secret  meetings, 
but  he  feigned  ignorance.  Anne  was  at  this 
time  in  great  need  of  the  consolations  of  the 
gospel.  Her  father.  Sir  William,  had  a  rich 
neighbor  named  Kyme  with  whom  he  was  in- 
timate, and,  being  anxious  that  his  eldest  daugh- 


ANNE  ASKEW.  49 1 

ter  should  marry  a  rich  man,  he  arranged  with 
Kyme  that  she  should  wed  his  eldest  son.  The 
young  lady  died  before  the  nuptials  took  place, 
and  Sir  William,  reluctant  to  let  slip  so  good  a 
chance,  compelled  his  second  daughter,  Anne, 
to  marry  the  betrothed  of  her  sister,  and  by 
him  she  became  the  mother  of  two  children. 
The  Holy  Scriptures  in  the  English  version 
attracted  Anne's  attention,  and  ere  long  she 
became  so  attached  to  them  that  she  medi- 
tated on  them  day  and  night.  Led  by  them 
to  a  living  faith  in  Jesus  Christ,  she  renounced 
Romish  superstitions.  The  priests,  who  were 
greatly  annoyed,  stirred  up  against  her  her 
young  husband,  a  rough  man  and  a  staunch 
papist,  who  "violently  drove  her  out  of  his 
house."  Anne  said,  "  Since,  according  to  the 
Scripture,  '  if  the  unbelieving  depart,  let  him 
depart ;  a  brother  or  a  sister  is  not  under 
bondage  in  such  cases,'  I  claim  my  divorce." 
She  went  to  London  to  take  the  necessary 
proceedings,  and  either  through  her  brother, 
one  of  the  guards,  or  otherwise,  made  the 
acquaintance  of  the  pious  ladies  of  the  court 
and  of  the  queen  herself. 

It  was  a  great  vexation  to  the  enemies  of 
the  Reformation  to  see  persons  of  the  highest 
rank  almost  openly  professing  the  evangelical 
faith.  As  they  did  not  dare  to  attack  them, 
they   determined    to    make    a   beginning   with 


492  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

Anne  Askew,  and  thereby  to  terrify  the  rest. 
She  had  said  one  day,  "I  would  sooner  read 
five  Hnes  in  the  Bible  than  hear  five  masses 
in  the  church."  On  another  occasion  she  had 
denied  the  corporal  presence  of  the  Saviour 
in  the  sacrament.  She  was  sent  to  prison. 
When  she  was  taken  to  Sadlers'  Hall,  the 
judge,  Dare,  asked  her,  "  Do  you  not  believe 
that  the  sacrament  hanging  over  the  altar  is 
the  very  body  of  Christ  really?"  Anne  re- 
plied, "  Wherefore  was  St.  Stephen  stoned  to 
death  ?"  Dare  doubtless  remembered  that  Ste- 
phen had  said,  "  I  see  the  Son  of  man  sitting 
at  the  right  hand  of  God!'  From  this  it  fol- 
lowed that  he  was  not  in  the  sacrament.  He 
preferred  to  answer,  "  I  cannot  tell."  It  is 
possible,  however,  that  his  ignorance  was  not 
feigned.  "No  more,"  said  Anne,  ''will  I  assoil 
your  vain  question."  Anne  was  afterward  taken 
before  the  lord  mayor,  Sir  Martin  Bowes,  a  pas- 
sionate bigot.  He  was  under-treasurer  of  the 
mint,  and  in  1550  obtained  the  king's  pardon 
for  all  the  false  money  which  he  had  coined. 
The  magistrate  gravely  asked  her  whether 
a  mouse,  eating  the  Host,  received  God  or 
no.  "  I  made  no  answer,  but  smiled,"  says 
Anne.  The  bishop's  chancellor,  who  was  pres- 
ent, sharply  said  to  her,  ''  St.  Paul  forbade 
women  to  speak  or  to  talk  of  the  word  of 
God." — "  How  many  women,"  said   she  in  re- 


ANNE   ASKEW.  493 

ply,  "  have  you  seen  go  into  the  pulpit  and 
preach?" — "  Never  any,"  he  said. — "  You  ought 
not  to  find  fault  in  poor  women,  except  they 
have  offended  the  law."  She  was  unlawfiilly 
committed  to  prison,  and  for  eleven  days  no 
one  was  allowed  to  see  her.  At  this  time  she 
was  about  twenty-five  years  of  age. 

One  of  her  cousins,  named  Brittayne,  was  ad- 
mitted to  see  her.  He  immediately  did  every- 
thing he  could  to  get  Anne  released  on  bail. 
The  lord  mayor  bade  him  apply  to  the  chan- 
cellor of  the  bishop  of  London.  The  chancel- 
lor replied  to  him,  "Apply  to  the  bishop."  The 
bishop  said,  "  I  will  give  order  for  her  to  ap- 
pear before  me  to-morrow  at  three  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon."  He  then  subjected  her  to  a 
long  examination.  He  asked  her,  amongst 
other  things,  "  Do  you  not  think  that  private 
masses  help  the  souls  departed  ?" — "  It  is  great 
idolatry,"  she  replied,  ''  to  believe  more  in  them 
than  in  the  death  which  Christ  died  for  us." — 
"  What  kind  of  answer  is  this  ?"  said  the  bish- 
op of  London. — "  It  is  a  weak  one,"  replied 
Anne,  "  but  good  enough  for  such  a  question." 
After  the  examination,  at  which  Anne  made 
clear  and  brief  replies,  Bonner  wrote  down  a 
certain  number  of  articles  of  faith,  and  required 
that  Anne  should  set  her  hand  to  them.  She 
wrote,  "  I  believe  so  much  thereof  as  the  Holy 
Scriptures   doth  agree   unto."      This   was    not 


494  MARTYRS    OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

what  Bonner  wanted.  The  bishop  pressed  the 
point,  and  said,  '*  Sign  this  document."  Anne 
then  wrote,  "  I,  Anne  Askew,  do  beHeve  all 
manner  of  things  contained  in  the  faith  of 
the  Catholic  Church."  The  bishop,  well  know- 
ing what  Anne  meant  by  this  word,  hurried 
away  into  an  adjoining  room  in  a  great  rage. 
Her  cousin  Brittayne  followed  him  and  im- 
plored him  to  treat  his  kinswoman  kindly. 
"  She  is  a  woman,"  exclaimed  the  bishop,  "  and 
I  am  nothinof  deceived  in  her." — "Take  her  as 
a  woman,"  said  Brittayne,  "and  do  not  set  her 
weak  woman's  wit  to  your  lordship's  great  wis- 
dom." At  length,  Anne's  two  sureties — to  wit, 
Brittayne  and  Master  Spilman  of  Gray's  Inn — 
were  on  the  following  day  accepted,  and  she 
was  set  at  liberty.  These  events  took  place  in 
the  year  1545. 

Anne  having  continued  to  profess  the  gos- 
pel and  to  have  meetings  with  her  friends,  she 
was  again  arrested  three  months  later,  and  was 
brought  before  the  privy  council  at  Greenwich. 
On  the  opening  of  the  examination  she  refused 
to  go  Into  the  matter  before  the  council,  and 
said,  "  If  It  be  the  king's  pleasure  to  hear  me, 
I  will  show  him  the  truth." — "  It  is  not  meet," 
they  replied,  "  for  the  king  to  be  troubled  with 
you."  She  answered,  "  Solomon  was  reckoned 
the  wisest  king  that  ever  lived,  yet  misllked  he 
not  to  hear  two  poor  common  women  ;  much 


ANNE   ASKEW.  495 

more  His  Grace  a  single  woman  and  his  faith- 
ful subject." — "Tell  me  your  opinion  on  the 
sacrament,"  said  the  lord  chancellor. — "  I  be- 
lieve," she  said,  "  that  so  oft  as  I,  in  a  Christian 
congregation,  do  receive  the  bread  in  remem- 
brance of  Christ's  death  and  with  thanksgiv- 
ing, ...  I  receive  therewith  the  fruits  also  of 
his  most  glorious  passion." — "  Make  a  direct 
answer  to  the  question,"  said  Gardiner. — "  I 
will  not  sing  a  new  song  of  the  Lord,"  she  said, 
"  in  a  strange  land." — "  You  speak  in  parables," 
said  Gardiner. — "  It  is  best  for  you,"  she  an- 
swered, "  for  if  I  show  the  open  truth  ye  will 
not  accept  it." — "You  are  a  parrot,"  said  the 
incensed  bishop.  She  replied,  "  I  am  ready  to 
suffer  all  things  at  your  hands — not  only  your 
rebuke,  but  all  that  shall  follow  besides ;  yea, 
and  all  that  gladly." 

The  next  day  Anne  once  more  appeared 
before  the  council.  They  began  the  examina- 
tion on  the  subject  of  transubstantiation.  See- 
ing Lord  Parr  (uncle  to  the  queen)  and  Lord 
Lisle,  she  said  to  them,  "  It  is  a  great  shame 
for  you  to  counsel  contrary  to  your  knowl- 
edge."— "We  would  gladly,"  they  answered, 
"all  things  were  well."  Gardiner  wished  to 
speak  privately  with  her,  but  this  she  refused. 
The  lord  chancellor  then  beo^an  to  examine  her 
again.  "How  long,"  said  Anne,  "will  you  halt 
on   both  sides?" — "You   shall  be  burnt,"  said 


496  MARTYRS    OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

the  bishop  of  London.  She  repHed,  *'  I  have 
searched  all  the  Scriptures,  yet  could  I  never 
find  that  either  Christ  or  his  apostles  put  any 
creature  to  death." 

Anne  was  sent  back  to  prison.  She  was 
very  ill,  and  believed  herself  to  be  near  death. 
Never  had  she  had  to  endure  such  attacks. 
She  requested  leave  to  see  Latimer,  who  was 
still  confined  in  the  Tower,  but  this  consola- 
tion was  not  allowed  her.  Resting  firmly,  as 
she  did,  on  scriptural  grounds,  she  did  not  suf- 
fer herself  to  swerve.  To  her  constitutional 
resolution  she  added  that  which  was  the  fruit 
of  communion  with  God,  and  she  was  thus 
placed  by  faith  above  the  attacks  which  she 
experienced.  Having  a  good  foundation,  she 
resolutely  defended  the  freedom  of  her  con- 
science and  her  full  trust  in  Christ,  and  not 
only  did  she  encounter  her  enemies  without 
wavering,  but  she  spoke  to  them  with  a  power 
sufficient  to  awe  them,  and  gave  home-thrusts 
which  threw  them  into  confusion.  Neverdie- 
less,  she  was  only  a  weak  woman,  and  her  bod- 
ily strength  began  to  fail.  In  Newgate  she- 
said,  "  The  Lord  strengthen  us  in  the  truth ! 
Pray,  pray,  pray !"  She  composed  while  in 
prison  some  stanzas  which  have  been  pro- 
nounced extraordinary,  not  only  for  simple 
beauty  and  sublime  sentiment,  but  also  for  the 
noble  structure  and  music  of  the  verse. 


ANNE   ASKEW.  497 

By  law,  Anne  had  a  right  to  be  tried  by  jury, 
but  on  June  28,  1546,  she  was  condemned  by 
the  lord  chancellor  and  the  council,  without 
further  process,  to  be  burnt  for  having  denied 
the  corporal  presence  of  Christ.  They  asked 
her  whether  she  wished  for  a  priest ;  she  smiled 
and  said  she  would  confess  her  faults  unto 
God,  for  she  was  sure  that  he  would  hear  her 
with  favor.  She  added,  '*  I  think  His  Grace 
shall  well  perceive  me  to  be  weighed  in  an 
uneven  pair  of  balances.  .  .  .  Here  I  take 
heaven  and  earth  to  record  that  I  shall  die  in 
mine  innocency." 

It  was  proved  that  Anne  had  derived  her 
faith  from  the  Holy  Scriptures.  Gardiner  and 
his  partisans  therefore  prevailed  upon  the  gov- 
ernment, eight  days  before  the  death  of  this 
young  Christian,  to  issue  a  proclamation  pur- 
porting "  that  from  henceforth  no  man,  woman 
or  person,  of  what  estate,  condition  or  degree 
soever  he  or  they  be  [consequently,  including 
the  ladies  and  orentlemen  of  the  court  as  well  as 
others],  shall,  after  the  last  day  of  August  next 
ensuing,  receive,  have,  take  or  keep  in  their 
possession  the  text  of  the  New  Testament,  of 
Tyndale's  or  Coverdale's  translation,  in  Eng- 
lish, nor  any  other  than  is  permitted  by  the  act 
of  Parliament ;  .  .  .  nor  after  the  said  day  shall 
receive,  have,  take  or  keep  in  his  or  their  pos- 
session any  manner  of  books  printed  or  writ- 

32 


498  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

ten  in  the  English  tongue  which  be  or  shall  be 
set  forth  in  the  names  of  Fryth,  Tyndale,  Wy- 
cliffe,  .  .  .  Barnes,  Coverdale,  ...  or  by  any 
of  them  ;"  and  it  was  required  that  all  such 
books  should  be  delivered  to  the  mayor,  bailiff 
or  chief  constable  of  the  town,  to  be  openly 
burned. 

This  was  a  remarkable  proceeding  on  the 
part  of  Henry  VIII.  But  events  were  stronger 
than  the  proclamation,  and  it  remained  a  dead 
letter, 

Anne's  sentence  was  pronounced  before  the 
issue  of  the  proclamation.  The  trial  was  over, 
and  there  was  to  be  no  further  inquiry.  But 
her  death  was  not  enough  to  satisfy  Rich, 
Wriothesley  and  their  friends.  They  had  other 
designs,  and  were  about  to  perpetrate  the  most 
shameful  and  cruel  acts.  The  object  which 
these  men  now  proposed  to  themselves  was 
to  obtain  such  evidence  as  would  warrant 
them  in  taking  proceedings  against  those  la- 
dies of  the  court  who  were  friends  of  the 
gospel.  They  went  (July  13)  to  the  Tower, 
where  Anne  was  still  confined,  and  questioned 
her  about  her  accomplices,  naming  the  duchess- 
dowager  of  Suffolk,  the  countess  of  Sussex  and 
several  others.  Anne  answered,  "  If  I  should 
pronounce  anything  against  them,  I  should  not 
be  able  to  prove  It."  They  next  asked  her 
whether  there  were  no  members  of  the  royal 


ANNE   ASKEW.  499 

council  who  gave  her  their  support.  She  said, 
"  None." — "  The  king  is  informed,"  they  re- 
plied, "  that  if  you  choose  you  can  name  a 
great  many  persons  who  are  members  of  your 
sect."  She  answered  that  "  the  king  was  as 
well  deceived  in  that  behalf  as  dissembled  with 
in  other  matters."  The  only  effect  of  these 
denials  was  to  irritate  Wriothesley  and  his  col- 
leagues, and,  determined  at  any  cost  to  obtain 
information  against  influential  persons  at  the 
court,  they  ordered  the  rack  to  be  applied  to 
the  young  woman.  This  torture  lasted  a  long 
time,  but  Anne  gave  no  hint,  nor  even  uttered 
a  cry.  The  lord  chancellor,  more  and  more 
provoked,  said  to  Sir  Antony  Knevet,  lieuten- 
ant of  the  Tower,  "Strain  her  on  the  rack 
again."  The  latter  refused  to  do  this.  It  was 
to  no  purpose  that  Wriothesley  threatened  him 
if  he  would  not  obey. 

Rich,  a  member  of  the  privy  council,  had 
frequently  given  proof  of  his  baseness.  Wri- 
othesley was  ambitious,  inflated  with  self-con- 
ceit, haughty,  and  easily  angered  if  his  advice 
was  not  taken.  These  two  men  now  forgot 
themselves,  and  the  spectacle  was  presented 
of  the  lord  chancellor  of  England  and  a  privy 
councilor  of  the  king  turned  into  executioners. 
They  set  their  own  hands  to  the  horrible  in- 
strument, and  so  severely  applied  the  torture 
to  the  innocent  young  woman   that   she  was 


500  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

almost  broken  upon  it  and  quite  dislocated. 
She  fainted  away  and  was  wellnigh  dead. 
"Then  the  lieutenant  caused  me  to  be  loosed; 
incontinently  I  swooned,  and  then  they  recov- 
ered me  again.  After  that  I  sat  two  long 
hours,  reasoning  with  my  lord  chancellor  on 
the  bare  floor,  where  he,  with  many  flattering 
words,  persuaded  me  to  leave  my  opinion." 
Henry  VIII.  himself  censured  Wriothesley  for 
his  cruelty,  and  excused  the  lieutenant  of  the 
Tower.  "  Then  was  I  brought  to  a  house," 
says  Anne,  "laid  in  a  bed,  with  as  weary  and 
painful  bones  as  ever  Job  had."  The  chancel- 
lor sent  word  to  her  that  if  she  renounced  her 
faith  she  should  be  pardoned  and  should  want 
for  nothing,  but  that  otherwise  she  should  be 
burnt.  She  answered,  "  I  will  sooner  die."  At 
the  same  time  she  fell  on  her  knees  in  the  dun- 
geon and  said,  "  O  Lord,  I  have  more  enemies 
now  than  there  be  hairs  on  my  head  ;  yet.  Lord, 
let  them  never  overcome  me  with  vain  words, 
but  fight  thou.  Lord,  in  my  stead,  for  on  thee  I 
cast  my  care.  With  all  the  spite  they  can  im- 
agine they  fall  upon  me,  who  am  thy  poor  crea- 
ture. Yet,  sweet  Lord,  let  me  not  set  by  them 
that  are  against  me,  for  in  thee  is  my  whole  de- 
light. And,  Lord,  I  heartily  desire  of  thee  that 
thou  wilt  of  thy  most  merciful  goodness  forgive 
them  that  violence  which  they  do,  and  have 
done,   unto   me.      Open   also   thou   their  blind 


ANNE   ASKEW.  50 1 

hearts,  that  they  may  hereafter  do  that  thing 
In  thy  sight  which  is  only  acceptable  before 
thee,  and  to  set  forth  thy  verity  aright,  without 
all  vain  fantasies  of  sinful  men.  So  be  it,  O 
Lord,  so  be  it !" 

The  1 6th  of  July,  the  day  fixed  for  the  last 
scene  of  this  tragedy,  had  arrived ;  everything 
was  ready  for  the  burning  of  Anne  at  Smith- 
field.  The  execution  was  to  take  place,  not  in 
the  morning,  the  usual  time,  but  at  nightfall, 
to  make  it  the  more  terrible.  It  was  thus,  in 
every  sense,  a  deed  of  darkness.  They  were 
obliged  to  carry  Anne  to  the  place  of  execu- 
tion, for  in  her  state  at  that  time  she  was  un- 
able to  walk.  When  she  reached  the  pile  she 
was  bound  to  the  post  by  her  waist  with  a 
chain  which  prevented  her  from  sinking  down. 
The  wretched  Shaxton,  nominated  for  the  pur- 
pose, then  completed  his  apostasy  by  deliver- 
ing a  sermon  on  the  sacrament  of  the  altar,  a 
sermon  abounding  in  errors.  Anne,  who  was 
in  full  possession  of  her  faculties,  contented 
herself  with  saying,  "  He  misseth  and  speak- 
eth  without  the  book."  Three  other  evangel- 
ical Christians  were  to  die  at  the  same  time 
with  her — Belenian,  a  priest ;  J.  Lacels  (Las- 
celles)  of  the  king's  household,  probably  the 
man  who  had  revealed  the  incontinence  of 
Catharine  Howard,  a  deed  for  which  the  Ro- 
man party  hated  him  ;  and  one  Adams,  a  Col- 


502  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

Chester  man.  "  Now,  with  quietness,"  said  La- 
cels,  "  I  commit  the  whole  world  to  their  pastor 
and  herdsman  Jesus  Christ,  the  only  Saviour 
and  true  Messias."  The  letter  from  which  we 
quote  is  subscribed,  "John  Lacels,  late  servant 
to  the  king,  and  now  I  trust  to  serve  the  ever- 
lasting King  with  the  testimony  of  my  blood  in 
Smithfield." 

There  was  an  immense  gathering  of  the  peo- 
ple. On  a  platform  erected  in  front  of  St.  Bar- 
tholomew's church  were  seated,  as  presidents 
at  the  execution,  Wriothesley,  lord  chancellor 
of  England,  the  old  duke  of  Norfolk,  the  old 
earl  of  Bedford,  the  lord  mayor  Bowes,  and 
various  other  notabilities.  When  the  fire  was 
going  to  be  lighted  the  chancellor  sent  a  mes- 
senger to  Anne  Askew,  instructed  to  offer  her 
the  king's  pardon  if  she  would  recant.  She 
answered,  *'  I  am  not  come  hither  to  deny  my 
Lord  and  Master."  The  same  pardon  was 
offered  to  the  other  martyrs,  but  they  refused 
to  accept  it  and  turned  away  their  heads.  Then 
stood  up  the  ignorant  and  fanatical  Bowes,  and 
exclaimed  with  a  loud  voice,  '' Fiat  jiistitia  P' 
Anne  was  soon  wrapt  in  the  flames,  and  this 
noble  victim,  who  freely  offered  herself  a  sac- 
rifice to  God,  gave  up  her  soul  in  peace.  Her 
companions  did  likewise. 


LUTHER:   HIS    TRIUMPH  IN  DEATH.  503 

XXXV. 
LUTHER:   HIS  TRIUMPH  IN   DEATH. 

(The  night  of  the   i8th  February,  1546,  at  Eisleben.) 

Luther  had  throug-hout  his  life  refused  the 
aid  of  the  secular  arm,  as  his  desire  was  that 
the  truth  should  triumph  only  by  the  power  of 
God,  However,  in  1546,  in  spite  of  his  efforts, 
war  was  on  the  point  of  breaking  out,  but  it 
was  the  will  of  God  that  his  servant  should  be 
spared  this  painful  spectacle. 

The  counts  of  Mansfeld,  within  whose  ter- 
ritories he  was  born,  having  become  involved 
in  a  quarrel  with  their  subjects  and  with  sev- 
eral lords  of  the  neighborhood,  had  recourse 
to  the  mediation  of  the  Reformer.  The  old 
man — he  was  now  sixty- three — was  subject  to 
frequent  attacks  of  giddiness,  but  he  never 
spared  himself.  He  therefore  set  out  in  an- 
swer to  the  call,  and  reached  the  territory  of 
the  counts  on  the  28th  of  January,  accompa- 
nied by  his  friend  the  theologian  Jonas,  who 
had  been  with  him  at  the  Diet  of  Worms,  and 
by  his  two  sons,  Martin  and  Paul,  the  former 
now  fifteen,  and  the  latter  thirteen,  years  of 
age.  He  was  respectfully  received  by  the 
counts  of  Mansfeld,  attended  by  a  hundred 
and  twelve  horsemen.  He  entered  that  town 
of  Eisleben  in  which  he  was  born  and  in  which 


504  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

he  was  about  to  die.  That  same  evening  he 
was  ver}^  unwell,  and  was  near  fainting. 

Nevertheless,  he  took  courage,  and,  apply- 
ing himself  zealously  to  the  task,  preached 
four  times,  attended  twenty  conferences,  re- 
ceived the  sacrament  twice  and  ordained  two 
ministers.  Every  evening  Jonas  and  Michael 
Ccelius,  pastor  of  Mansfeld,  came  to  wish  him 
good-night.  "  Doctor  Jonas,  and  you,  ^Master 
Michael,"  he  said  .to  them,  "  entreat  of  the  Lord 
to  save  his  Church,  for  the  Council  of  Trent  is 
in  great  wrath." 

Luther  dined  regularly  with  the  counts  of 
Mansfeld.  It  was  evident  from  his  conversa- 
tion that  the  Holy  Scriptures  grew  daily  in  im- 
portance in  his  eyes.  ''  Cicero  asserts  in  his 
letters,"  he  said  to  the  counts  two  days  before 
his  death,  "  that  no  one  can  comprehend  the 
science  of  government  who  has  not  occupied 
for  twenty  years  an  important  place  in  the  re- 
public. And  I  for  my  part  tell  you  that  no  one 
has  understood  the  Holy  Scriptures  who  has 
not  eoverned  the  churches  for  a  hundred 
years,  with  the  prophets,  the  apostles  and 
Jesus  Christ."  This  occurred  on  the  i6th  of 
February.  After  saying  these  words  he  wrote 
them  down  in  Latin,  laid  them  upon  the  table, 
and  then  retired  to  his  room.  He  had  no  soon- 
er reached  it  than  he  felt  that  his  last  hour  was 
near.     "When    I   have   set  my  good  lords   at 


LUTHER:   HIS    TRIUMPH  IN  DEATH.  505 

one,"  he  said  to  those  about  him,  "  I  will  return 
home ;  I  will  lie  down  in  my  coffin  and  give  my 
body  to  the  worms." 

The  next  day,  February  17,  his  weakness  in- 
creased. The  counts  of  Mansfeld  and  the  prior 
of  Anhalt,  filled  with  anxiety,  came  to  see  him. 
"  Pray  do  not  come,"  they  said,  "  to  the  confer- 
ence." He  rose  and  walked  up  and  down  the 
room,  and  exclaimed,  "  Here,  at  Eisleben,  I  was 
baptized.  Will  it  be  my  lot  also  to  die  here  ?" 
A  little  while  after  he  took  the  sacrament. 
Many  of  his  friends  attended  him,  and  sorrow- 
fully felt  that  soon  they  would  see  him  no  more. 
One  of  them  said  to  him,  "  Shall  we  know  each 
other  in  the  eternal  assembly  of  the  blessed? 
We  shall  be  all  so  changed."  "Adam,"  replied 
Luther,  "had  never  seen  Eve,  and  yet  when 
he  awoke  he  did  not  say,  '  Who  art  thou  ?' 
but,  'Thou  art  flesh  of  my  flesh.'  By  what 
means  did  he  know  that  she  was  taken  from 
his  flesh  and  not  from  a  stone  ?  He  knew  this 
because  he  was  filled  with  the  Holy  Spirit.  So 
likewise  in  the  heavenly  Paradise  we  shall  be 
filled  with  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  we  shall  recog- 
nize father,  mother  and  friends  better  than 
Adam  recognized  Eve." 

Having  thus  spoken,  Luther  retired  into  his 
chamber,  and,  according  to  his  daily  custom,  even 
in  the  winter-time,  opened  his  window,  looked 
up   to    heaven   and    began    to    pray.      "  Heav- 


5o6  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

enly  Father,"  he  said,  "  since  in  thy  great  mercy 
thou  hast  revealed  to  me  the  downfall  of  the 
pope,  since  the  day  of  thy  glory  is  not  far  off, 
and  since  the  light  of  thy  gospel,  which  is  now 
rising  over  the  earth,  is  to  be  diffused  through 
the  whole  world,  keep  to  the  end,  through  thy 
goodness,  the  Church  of  my  dear -native  coun- 
try ;  save  it  from  falling,  preserve  it  in  the  true 
profession  of  thy  word,  and  let  all  men  know 
that  it  is  indeed  for  thy  work  that  thou  hast 
sent  me."  He  then  left  the  window,  returned 
to  his  friends,  and  about  ten  o'clock  at  night 
retired  to  bed.  Just  as  he  reached  the  thresh- 
old of  his  bedroom  he  stood  still  and  said  in 
Latin,  "  In  manus  tuas  commendo  spiritum 
meum,  redemisti  me,  Deus  veritatis "  ("  Into 
thy  hand  I  commend  my  spirit ;  thou  hast  re- 
deemed me,  O  God  of  truth"). 

The  1 8th  of  February,  the  day  of  his  depart- 
ure, was  now  at  hand.  About  one  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  sensible  that  the  chill  of  death 
was  creeping  over  him,  Luther  called  Jonas 
and  his  faithful  servant  Ambrose.  "Make  a 
fire,"  he  said  to  Ambrose.  Then  he  cried  out, 
"  O  Lord  my  God,  I  am  in  great  pain  !  What 
a  weight  upon  my  chest !  I  shall  never  leave 
Eisleben."  Jonas  said  to  him,  "  Our  heavenly 
Father  will  come  to  help  you,  for  the  love  of 
Christ  which  you  have  faithfully  preached  to 
men."     Luther  then  got  up,  took  some  turns 


LUTHER:   HIS    TRIUMPH  IN  DEATH.  507 

up  and  down  his  room,  and  looking  up  to 
heaven  exclaimed  again,  "Into  thy  hand  I  com- 
mit my  spirit ;  thou  hast  redeemed  me,  O  God 
of  truth." 

Jonas  in  alarm  sent  for  the  doctors,  Wild  and 
Ludwig,  the  count  and  countess  of  Mansfeld, 
Drachstadt  the  town-clerk,  and  Luther's  chil- 
dren. In  great  alarm  they  all  hastened  to  the 
spot.  "  I  am  dying,"  said  the  sick  man. — '*  No," 
said  Jonas ;  "  you  are  now  in  a  perspiration, 
and  will  soon  be  better." — ''  It  is  the  sweat  of 
death,"  said  Luther ;  "  I  am  nearly  at  my  last 
breath."  He  was  thoughtful  for  a  moment, 
and  then  said  with  faltering  voice,  "  O  my 
heavenly  Father,  the  God  and  Father  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  the  God  of  all  consolation, 
I  thank  thee  that  thou  hast  revealed  to  me  thy 
well-beloved  Son,  Jesus  Christ,  in  whom  I  have 
believed,  whom  I  have  preached,  whom  I  have 
confessed,  whom  the  pope  and  all  the  ungodly 
insult,  blaspheme  and  persecute,  but  whom  I 
love  and  adore  as  my  Saviour.  O  Jesus  Christ, 
my  Saviour,  I  commit  my  soul  to  thee.  O  my 
heavenly  Father,  I  must  quit  this  body,  but  I 
believe  with  perfect  assurance  that  I  shall  dwell 
eternally  with  thee,  and  that  none  shall  pluck 
me  out  of  thy  hands." 

He  now  remained  silent  for  a  litde  while  ; 
his  prayer  seemed  to  have  exhausted  him. 
But    presently    his    countenance    again    grew 


5o8  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

bright;  a  holy  joy  shone  in  his  features,  and 
he  said  with  fullness  of  faith,  '*  God  so  loved 
the  world  that  he  gave  his  only-begotten  Son, 
that  whosoever  believeth  in  him  should  not 
perish,  but  have  everlasting  life."  A  moment 
afterward  he  uttered,  as  if  sure  of  victory,  this 
word  of  David:  "He  that  is  our  God  is  the 
God  of  salvation  ;  and  unto  God  the  Lord  be- 
lonp^  the  issues  from  death."  Dr.  Wild  went 
to  him  and  tried  to  induce  him  to  take  med- 
icine, but  Luther  refused.  "  I  am  departing ; 
I  am  about  to  yield  up  my  spirit."  Then  re- 
turning to  the  saying  which  was  for  him  a  sort 
of  watchword  for  his  departure,  he  said  three 
times  successively,  without  interruption,  ''  Fa- 
ther !  into  thy  hand  I  commit  my  spirit ;  thou 
hast  redeemed  me,  O  God  of  truth — thou  hast 
redeemed  me,  O  God  of  truth." 

He  then  closed  his  eyes.  They  touched  him, 
moved  him,  called  to  him,  but  he  made  no  an- 
swer. In  vain  they  applied  the  cloths  which 
the  town-clerk  and  his  wife  heated ;  in  vain 
the  countess  of  Mansfeld  and  the  physicians 
endeavored  to  revive  him  with  tonics.  He  re- 
mained motionless.  All  w^ho  stood  round  him, 
perceiving  that  God  was  going  to  take  away 
from  the  Church  militant  this  mighty  warrior, 
were  deeply  affected.  The  two  physicians 
noted  from  minute  to  minute  the  approach  of 
death.     The  two  boys,  Martin  and  Paul,  kneel- 


LUTHER:   HIS    TRIUMPH  IN  DEATH.  509 

ing  and  in  tears,  cried  to  God  to  spare  to  them 
their  father.  Ambrose  lamented  the  master, 
and  Coehus  the  friend,  whom  they  had  so  much 
loved.     The  count  of  Mansfeld  thouorht  of  the 

o 

troubles  which  Luther's  death  might  bring  on 
the  Empire.  The  distressed  countess  sobbed 
and  covered  her  eyes  with  her  hands,  that  she 
might  not  behold  the  mournful  scene.  Jonas, 
a  little  apart  from  the  rest,  felt  heartbroken  at 
the  thought  of  the  terrible  blow  impending  over 
the  Reformation.  He  wished  to  receive  from 
the  dying  Luther  a  last  testimony.  He  there- 
fore rose  and  went  up  to  his  friend,  and,  bend- 
ing over  him,  said,  "  Reverend  father,  in  your 
dying  hour  do  you  rest  on  Jesus  Christ  and 
steadfastly  rely  upon  the  doctrine  which  you 
have  preached?" — "Yes,"  said  Luther,  so  that 
all  who  were  present  could  hear  him.  This 
was  his  last  word.  The  pallor  of  death  over- 
spread his  countenance  ;  his  forehead,  his  hands 
and  his  feet  turned  cold.  They  addressed  him 
by  his  baptismal  name,  "  Doctor  Martin,"  but 
in  vain ;  he  made  no  response.  He  drew  a 
deep  breath  and  fell  asleep  in  the  Lord.  It 
was  between  two  and  three  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  "Truly,"  said  Jonas,  to  whom  we 
are  indebted  for  these  details,  "thou  lettest, 
Lord,  thy  servant  depart  in  peace,  and  thou 
accomplishest  for  him  the  promise  which  thou 
madest  us,  and  which  he  himself  wrote  the  oth- 


5IO  MARTYRS   OF   THE   REFORMATION. 

er  day  in  a  Bible  presented  to  one  of  his  friends, 
*  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you.  If  a  man  keep 
my  saying,  he  shall  never  see  death.'  " 

Thus  passed  Luther  into  the  presence  of  his 
Master,  in  full  reliance  on  redemption,  in  calm 
faith  in  the  triumph  of  truth.  Luther  was  no 
longer  here  below,  but  Jesus  Christ  is  with  his 
people  evermore  to  the  end  of  the  world,  and 
the  work  which  Luther  had  begun  lives,  and  is 
still  advancing,  and  will  extend  to  all  the  ends 
of  the  earth. 


THE   END. 


Date  Due 

.•.„^*»ii,(m»irt'*«**-'' 

««. 

m 

PRINTED 

IN  U,  S.  A. 

/  ^ 


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Martyrs  of  the  Reformation 

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1    1012  00082  5770 


